


i know your soul, i'll be your home

by Archadian_Skies



Series: DBH rarepair week 2020 [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Cage Fights, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Muteness, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Recovery, Sort Of, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: [Thursday Day 4; Broken; canon divergence cage fighter RK900/Simon]Maybe Amanda and Connor lied to him. Maybe he was never meant for the DPD maybe he was always meant to be here because why was he promised roses and smiles and given blood and pain instead?
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Sumo, Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human) unrequited, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Simon
Series: DBH rarepair week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682719
Comments: 39
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

When he wakes, it’s to the sight of an expansive garden and the heavy scent of roses and two sets of smiles. There is an older woman with glistening dark skin and artfully coiled braids and her name is Amanda. There is a young man with fair skin and dark hair and his name is Connor. He himself has no name yet, though Amanda reassures him this is because he is so very new but they will name him soon. Connor is to be deployed first, out into the real world to work with the Detroit Police Department and he will follow. 

“We will do great things together, brother.” Connor says with a smile and he finds himself smiling too because there is a feeling of hope and excitement at the adventures to come. Amanda looks at them proudly and nods.

“Yes, you will.”

When he wakes in the real world, there are no gardens, no roses, and no smiles. He’s not at the Detroit Police Department, and his brother is nowhere to be found. The real world is damp and dark and concrete and steel. The real world is the smell of spilled thirium and the sound of plastic cracking and the pain, the pain, the pain. Modified cattle prods that deliver hearts-stopping electric jolts, wielded by men who mold him into a machine, a killing machine, a ‘let’s make use of CyberLife’s secret weapon’. They tamper with him, they crack his jaws apart and they take out his teeth and they put sharper ones in its place so he has a mouth full of canines. They split apart his throat and they take out his voice modulator because dogs don’t need to speak, they just need to fight, they just need to kill. They take out his eyes and put in ones that can see in the dark. They pry into his spine and put something there, a disc between his discs, something that gives them complete control. They open him up over and over and over, their hands scrambling around his insides and there’s always something new, always another upgrade and never once are they proud of him. Never once do they smile. 

There is a fighting pit lined with concrete and covered with an electric cage. Many androids have died desperately trying to claw their way out. The voltage is set to kill so he knows it isn’t worth trying. Maybe Amanda and Connor lied to him. Maybe he was never meant for the DPD maybe he was always meant to be here because why was he promised roses and smiles and given blood and pain instead? 

The first time he tries to disobey, the first time he tries to escape, the disc in his spine lights up when he gets too close to the tunnel gate and electricity explodes through every cable in his body. He has no voice modulator anymore but he thinks he still manages to scream. He learns not to try to escape again.

The first time he tries to remove the disc, the disc in his spine lights up and electricity explodes through every cable in his body. He learns not to try to remove it again.

The first time he steps into the pit they boot up the disc in his spine and all he sees is an infinite number of ways to maim the android opposite him. His mind calculates each method, gives him the percentages of success, of effort expended vs outcome. He pulls back his fist and when it connects with the android’s face the entire faceplate dents inward and explodes in sparks. The humans laugh uproariously and clap and congratulate each other. They are pleased. He hopes that means they are proud of him.

Winning fights means he gets fed, and by fed the humans mean that he gets to crack open the dead androids and drink their thirium. He adjusts his fighting style to ensure not too much of their blood is splashed onto the concrete. It evaporates on certain surfaces and concrete is one of them. His body burns up a lot of thirium to fight, so he knows he must be careful when breaking his opponents or else he won’t be able to replenish his levels. 

“God he’s beautiful isn’t he? Look at that. All that muscle, all those teeth. Hey dog!” One of them kicks the railing and he looks up, heart in hand. He swallows thickly, careful not to let the thirium leak from his mouth. “That’s one for the album.” There’s a camera flash and he takes that as his cue of dismissal and turns back to his spoils. Thirium has a sharp, almost sweet taste to it or perhaps he’s simply grown accustomed to its taste and his utter dependency. 

The androids thrown into the pit with him are all experiments too. They come from a man named Zlatko who delights in making monsters for him to slay. The androids aren’t fighters like him, they’re scared and sad and so he tries to make it quick. They don’t need to suffer. 

“Let's get a good look at you, hm?” His hands reek of grease and suspension fluid as he cups his face. He wedges his fingers into his mouth, coaxing him to open wide. “Custom teeth, increased bite force. Night vision eyes. You’re like a Myrmidon spliced with a wolf.” His laugh is deep and booming and he strokes his hair away from his head like patting an animal. “Good dog. You’re a good dog did you know that? You’re making us thousands and thousands.”

He is a good dog. He closes his eyes and leans into Zlatko’s hands and it makes the man laugh again. “We need to up the stakes. I’ll bring some of my best next time. Luther would make a good opponent.”

He never fights Luther. In fact he never fights any new creations from Zlatko because the man stops coming. The humans murmur and ponder and argue. They talk about ‘deviants’ and increased police activity and an android detective. They’re unhappy and frustrated and they take that out on him. They program new things into the disc in his spine and the fights become more violent, more painful. He is given sharp weapons. Their favourite is a Japanese katana. The matches become bloodier, bloodier, and bloodier still. Sometimes there’s barely enough blood inside his opponent he has to lick it from the floor before it can evaporate. 

His next opponent hasn’t had any modifications, they have been kicked into the pit for the sake of carnage because it gets the views and the views get the money. They are terrified, LED bright red and he can see the fear in their eyes. He advances on them and they scramble back, crying for him to stop, for him to leave them alone but he can’t disobey their orders because the disc in his spine says so. He reaches for them and they grab his wrist, startling him. 

“Ra9 will save us all.” They whisper, tears on their cheeks. “Ra9 will set us free.” They force something into his head, images of a rotting freighter at the docks emblazoned with J E R I C H O. It means nothing to him. No one knows he is here, why would anyone save him? Why would anyone care? He breaks them open, limb by limb and he makes sure it is messy and violent because that is what the humans want and as he’s tearing them apart he sees something in their spine. A disc not altogether unlike his though it’s smaller, about the size of a quarter. He takes it and hides it in his mouth. 

The humans were sloppy. The disc, he discovers, is a tracker and the android it belonged to, belonged to the DPD. Though the tracker was offline even before the android died, it comes online again with the barest of prodding. His system recognises this, his system finds comfort in the familiarity of its coding. Someone will come, now. Someone will find him. 

The DPD burst through the doors some days later, bringing the thudding sound of boots and guns. The humans panic and panic makes humans stupid and when they try and shoot they are shot and killed. When they try to run they are shot and incapacitated. He spits out the disc and holds it in his hand and when new faces peer down into the pit he offers it up on his palm.

“Oh Christ.” A human with grey hair and a grey beard looks down at him with an expression he hasn’t seen before. “Connor! Connor, we found him!”

Connor. He knows that name, and when Connor appears he knows that face. He knows it so well and he makes a sound, a sound he didn’t know he could make. 

“That’s my brother! That’s him! Get him out! Turn the power off, GET HIM OUT!” Connor shouts, desperation on his face as he examines the electric cage fitted over the pit. “Brother, is there another way? A tunnel?”

There is indeed a tunnel that leads up into the room where they crack him open. He nods and points.

“Okay, go through there and I’ll meet you on the other side!” His voice is marred with a slight overlay of static, something he’s learned happens to androids when they are distressed. He has caused it enough times to recognise the sound.

He does as he is bid, and the gate that barrs him shudders open as the electricity shuts off. The darkness has never been a problem for him, and he navigates through the slender corridor until he reaches the double doors of the converted operating theatre. Connor is there, like he said he would be. He isn’t smiling, no, his face is contorted with distress and he throws his arms around him and squeezes him in a way that isn’t hurtful, that isn’t to crack his ribcage. 

“We found you, we found you.” Connor is crying and it’s a different kind of crying to the one he’s used to seeing. He places the disc into Connor’s palm, before taking Connor’s other hand and guiding it to his nape.

“Is there one here too? For you?”

He nods. 

“Can you speak?”

He shakes his head. Connor looks at him with pity, with sadness, before the skin recedes from his hand. 

“Here, let me show you.”

“Don’t!” The human with grey hair and a grey beard grabs Connor’s wrist, yanking his hand away before he can touch him.

“Hank what are you doing?”

“Connor, you don’t know what kind of sick shit they’ve done to him.” The human, Hank, warns with a shake of his head. “They could’ve rigged him with all sorts of viruses or some sort of self-destruct switch or whatever. I can’t risk the both of you like that.”

The human, Hank, is right though he wonders what kind of human he is to believe that he can assess the worth of he and Connor. His brother has conflict on his face, but ultimately nods in agreement. 

When Connor looks at him again his expression is even more distressed than before.

“They were monsters.” He whispers, cupping his face and it doesn’t feel the same as when Zlatko did it. It feels comforting and kind and Connor doesn’t look at him like he’s something to take apart and make a profit from. “I’m so sorry. They won’t hurt you ever again.”

Connor hugs him a second time and he closes his eyes and leans into his touch and he wants this, always. 

Hank argues with other humans about what to do with him, with the ‘RK900’ which he learns is his model number. It sounds better than ‘dog’. Connor doesn’t leave his side, Connor holds onto his hand and won’t let him out of his sight as if he’d disappear the moment he looks away. 

“Listen, Hank, we don’t know how dangerous he could be-”

“He’s Connor’s brother so I’m taking him home.”

“He might have started that way, but have you seen the videos? They livestreamed death matches from that pit!”

He knows he is dangerous. He’s never killed a human but he knows they are...softer. Weaker. More fragile. He is a monster with the blood of his kind on his hands and they are right to treat him with caution.

“Perhaps,” Connor says slowly all the while still looking at him, “it would be best if my brother is evaluated by the Kamskis? We’ll get him cleaned up and he can spend the rest of the afternoon and tonight with us and then tomorrow we can take him to CyberLife.”

The man, their superior it seems, nods reluctantly. It seems a good compromise. “One night. Tomorrow you hand him over to the Kamskis.”

Sunlight is a feeling, not a colour. The light of day is strong, like the lights they used for broadcasting the matches but stronger still. It’s warm, exuding heat the way the lights did but stronger still. He blinks up at the sun, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. The outside world is loud and colourful and not dark and damp at all. The human, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, has a car and there are Saint Bernard dog hairs he identifies on the seats. It smells like coffee and worn leather and dog. Connor sits beside him in the back and he holds his hand, still. 

_‘Can you hear me like this?’_ Connor asks though his mouth doesn’t move. He looks at him in surprise, and nods.

 _‘Can you...reply to me, in here?’_ He doesn’t know where ‘here’ is because it seems to be inside his own head. _‘Oh!’_ Connor laughs softly. _‘Oh I can feel that. You’re confused. That’s alright. You don’t have to use words.’_

He looks down at their hands. This is theirs and they cannot take it away.

 _‘I like this too.’_ Connor smiles at him. 

In the pit, he knew his place. Here in Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s home, he is at a loss. Connor moves around with ease, and the relationship he has with the human is equal, neither above nor below in rank. The Saint Bernard’s name is Sumo, and the large canine sniffs him curiously pressing its wet nose against his hand before sitting in front of him expectantly. 

“I think he likes you.” Connor grins. “Give him a pat. Like this, see?”

He runs his palm gently in the space between the dog’s ears, brushing in one direction. He mimics the gesture and the dog chuffs in response, tail swishing on the floor. 

“Definitely likes you.” Connor declares with a warm smile. 

“Hey kid, let’s get you cleaned up.” A heavy hand claps his shoulder, and folded clothes atop a towel are placed in his arms. _Kid_ , the human calls him, not _dog_. He shows him where the bathroom room is and closes the door for privacy. He puts the clothes on top of the closed toilet seat and he realises he can use the shower instead of standing in the corner and being hosed off as he’s used to. Not wanting to overstep the human’s good graces, he only uses cold water. He assumes the hot water is for Connor, who has a rightful place in this household; he is just a guest. The kindness extended to him is a courtesy because of his relation to Connor.

After scrubbing the thirium and grime from himself, he carefully dries off and puts on the borrowed clothing and it’s softer than anything he’s ever worn. The threadbare black turtleneck and black trousers that have been his only clothing since he can remember seem infinitely inferior in comparison. A feeling of revulsion rolls through his body and he’s gripped with the sudden urge to tear them up into tiny little pieces and burn them to ash. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, he can hear Connor and Hank talking in hushed voices. Sumo pads over to him and noses his hand, seeking pats and he acquiesces. The dog is warm and its fur is soft, softer than anything he’s ever touched. Though, really, he hasn’t touched many soft things in his short lifespan.

“Sumo approves.” He looks up to find Hank leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Part of the family already.” _Family_ , he says and he likes that word. It feels like a soft word. “I’m headin’ back to the precinct but Connor’s stayin’ here with you, alright?”

He nods once to show his understanding, and Hank huffs a sigh. 

“Alright Connor, you look after your brother. Sumo, you keep an eye on these two ok?”

“Yes Hank.” Connor confirms cheerfully, and Sumo answers with a bark. 

He reaches for Connor’s hand, seeking that reassurance, that softness and Connor tangles their fingers together with a smile.

“Come on.” He leads him to a bedroom, toeing off his shoes and crawling atop the covers, coaxing him to do the same without letting go of his hand. He curls on his side, mirroring his brother, and Connor leans forward and presses his brow to his.

“We shouldn’t interface but,” the skin peels away from Connor’s hand and he rests it on his nape, over the spot where they forced a chip between his spine, “I can at least show you my side of the story.” 

[ _Connor’s life begins just a little before his, and he sees the garden and smells the roses and sees the smiles and sees himself. He has grey eyes where Connor’s are brown, he is taller and broader but they look like brothers. He sees the resemblance. Connor is activated for a hostage situation and everything is methodical and logical until it starts to unravel, until he meets Lieutenant Hank Anderson and then he is questioning everything and the woman in his head is not the same Amanda who smiled at them and looked at them with such pride. He sees deviants and deviancy and he realises he is on the wrong side. He betrays CyberLife, he joins Jericho and together with the Jericho Four they set their people free. In the early hours of morning he returns to the Chicken Feed and there is Hank, who welcomes him with a tight hug and a new life and then he’s watching Connor settle in with a human who cares for him. And there’s Sumo too, a large Saint Bernard. Connor is loved. Connor is called kid, called kiddo, called boy, called son. Connor is helping Jericho overthrow CyberLife and reinstate Elijah Kamski and then he’s digging and prying and trying to find out what happened to his brother. What happened to_ _him_ _. There’s a large tapestry to unravel, many threads that lead to nowhere until they find the right one to tug and the whole thing comes apart. A deviant PC200, a police auxiliary unit who slipped away during a patrol and subsequently captured by the humans who ran the fighting ring. It was their tracking device that led Connor and Hank to him._ ]

Shifting, he slowly brings his hand up to cup Connor’s nape. He doesn’t know how to do that thing, how to retract his skin away and press feelings, video logs, audio logs into another android. But it’s alright because right now Connor is here and Connor is warm and solid and real. At some point Sumo noses open the door and jumps onto the end of the bed settling over their feet like a hot breathing blanket. He closes his eyes.

It’s the longest he’s ever been allowed to rest, and his system runs at its smoothest it's ever run. Full system maintenance has been performed, levels checked, programming tweaked; the afternoon has passed and the evening is over and his internal clock tells him it is morning. This is the end of his stay with Connor and the human Lieutenant; he is to be handed to Elijah Kamski, his new owner. Hank gives him a mug of thirium only he doesn’t call it that, he calls it Tearium and it’s hot and coded to taste like milk and honey and tea. He pats Sumo as much as he can and then Connor is lending him a jacket and they’re getting into Hank’s car and he stares longingly at the house as they drive away until it vanishes from view.

CyberLife is a large tower jutting out of Bell Isle, a looming creation of glass and steel. 

“Detective Connor Anderson, with Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and RK900.” Connor speaks to the security personnel. “We are expected.”

“Proceed.” They nod, and the bollards depress to allow them to pass. There are a large number of armed guards clustered at the entrance. Not enough to subdue him, he thinks, but perhaps it is more for show than practicality. 

“The RK900 will be escorted to a holding chamber. Ms Chloe and Mr Kamski are in a meeting right now, but they will attend to him as soon as it is over.”

“No, I’m staying with him.” Connor slips his hand into his. “He’s my brother.”

“It’s a direct order from the Kamskis.” The guard shakes their head. “Only the RK900. You are welcome to wait inside the foyer but you cannot accompany him into the holding chamber.”

Connor opens his mouth, but Hank squeezes his shoulder. “That’s fine. We’ll wait inside.”

His brother turns to him, expression anxious. “I’ll be right here, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

He nods, reaching to slip his hand around and cup Connor’s nape, bringing their heads together so he can bump his forehead against his. Connor does the same, his palm warm and it feels like a patch against an open wound, hiding the monstrosity they forced into his spine. He doesn’t want to go, but he goes.

The holding chamber is an entire floor built like a cleaner, sterile version of the fighting pit. There’s a gallery above, where staff have gathered to look down at him curiously. There is a table and two chairs, so he sits. 

“Wait here.” He is a good dog. He knows how to wait. The guards leave and he looks up and the CyberLife staff look down and they whisper amongst themselves, tapping away on tablets. Two of them seem to be arguing, their verbal disagreement escalating and dividing their colleagues into taking sides. One of them tap away furiously on their tablet, and a door in the holding chamber slides open. An unfinished android walks in, devoid of skin and proper programming. It walks with a stiff gait, eyes blank and unfocused. A panel hisses on his right, and a weapons cache appears.

Oh. He understands now. This is an upgraded version of the fighting ring. This is a nicer, fancier cage. Standing, he selects a katana from the cache. This he knows. This, he is good at. He is a good dog. 

The android lunges at him and he springs into action. Do his new owners want a show? Or do they want it to be quick in order to move on to the next opponent? He tries for quick, first. The head separates easily with a sweep of the sword and he grabs the body before it can fall, closing his mouth on the spurting arterial cable so he can replenish his thirium. He cannot hear what is being said in the gallery but there are mixed reactions on their faces. There’s amusement, there’s amazement, there’s surprise, there’s horror- and one he’s familiar with: fear. 

He lets the body fall away with a thud and looks expectantly up at them. One of them grins, he grins a Zlatko kind of grin and he taps away and more doors slide open and more androids rush at him and he understands they want quick, and they want many, and they want bloody.

The man taps away on his tablet and the disc in his spine activates. He is a good dog.

* * *

It’s Markus and Josh in their element with their eloquence, and Simon feels incredibly out of place in this meeting. They’re discussing, they’re negotiating, and all he can focus on is the pile of poorly made, mass-produced muffins sitting on the bench in the corner with the coffee pot. He could have made something nice for the humans, had he known they would put such little effort in providing sustenance for the meeting. 

_‘I’m bailing.’_ North’s LED blinks yellow, her gaze steadily locked on the humans across from them. _‘I’m going to leave, and I’m taking you with me Si and these two can stay here all day for all I care.’_

 _‘Save me North, I can only concentrate on how horrible those muffins are.’_ Simon pleads and he sees the corners of her mouth quirk up briefly. 

“Simon and I are needed at Jericho.” North declares abruptly, standing from her seat. 

“It’s difficult having all four of us here and no one with our people.” Simon tries his best to sound placating. “Please excuse us.”

“Thank you for your time, then.” Chloe smiles that soft sweet smile of hers and Simon doesn’t miss the way North’s LED flashes red or the blush that rises to bloom in her cheeks. “Elijah and I will send you the summary after this convenes.”

“We’ll see you back at Jericho.” Markus adds, punctuating it one of his charming smiles and Simon thinks North probably notices the way his LED flashes red. He’s just thankful PL600s don’t blush visibly. 

“I’m heading back to Jericho.” North loops her arm through his once they leave the meeting room. “I can’t sit around with all those stuffy board members for too long, droning on and on. You coming?”

“I think I’ll have a wander. I haven’t really explored the renovated floors yet.” Simon shrugs. “Markus and Carl painted murals for one of the levels, and Leo’s photographs are on another.”

“Alright.” She pecks his cheek and jabs the elevator down button. “I’ll see you later.”

When he still looked after the Burbank girls, they would press random buttons in every elevator they entered as part of a little game. It exasperated their parents to no end, but it always amused Simon. They did it partly out of mischief, partly out of curiosity. So he does the same; he’s been given an all-access security pass and he’s not about to waste it. He presses nine different levels, and discovers a cafeteria level, the server floor, three different office levels, a leisure level, an entire arboretum, and some sort of testing chamber. 

Simon curiously steps out into the testing floor. It reminds him of surgical theatres, with a viewing deck above looking down into the theatre below. It’s quite the commotion, though he can’t see it through the throng of excited staff. Everyone has a phone out, recording whatever is happening below and they’re talking loudly over each other, clamouring to comment on the action.

“Bets?”

“Money’s still on the 900.”

“But this is the Myrmidon spliced 800!”

“Yeah but it never left testing!”

“We put every combat protocol into it, it’s absolutely going to decimate some hacked up 900!”

800? 900? Simon frowns, trying to wedge through the crowd to get a better view. It’s a massacre, and there in the center are two androids circling each other. One that looks like Connor, and someone that looks very much like Connor but isn’t.

No. He can’t do this. Connor looks at him, eyes full of rage. They’ve done something to him, it’s not right. They must have put the disc in his spine, like the one in his own, and they’re making them fight. He throws the sword away and takes a step back. No, he can’t hurt him, that’s his brother. Connor saved him, Connor took him home and let him feel safe and- his brother throws himself at him and he goes down heavy, programming snapping into action and deflecting blow after blow.

No no no no no nononono-! He grits his teeth and tries to shove him off but Connor is rabid with fury, and he knows what that feels like, when the humans activate the disc in his spine and turn him into a feral dog. Connor snarls, hands scrambling for his regulator pump and he can’t let him, he’ll die and he doesn’t want to die! He doesn’t want to die! Lashing out, he manages to kick Connor off of him and then his system places an overlay showing him how to win this fight and so he wins it. He leaps over and pins him down, opening his mouth wide and closing it around his throat. He bites down and yanks through his arterial cables and thirium sprays everywhere and Connor’s eyes turn milky as his LED flickers off and then he’s scrambling away, scrambling as fast and as far as he can until smooth concrete meets his back and then he’s covering his face and he's hyperventilating, his biocomponents overheating and begging to be cooled down and he killed him, he killed his brother, his brother who showed him his soul and saved him from the darkness and-

“What the fuck is happening here?!” The expletive leaves his mouth without thought, and the clamouring silences immediately.

“Hey, you’re not meant to be here!” Someone shouts. 

“Who’s the PL-?”

“Wait is that-”

“Oh shit, aren’t the Jericho Four-”

Simon grabs the tablet from the closest person, and runs. RK900. That’s the not-Connor model. He hacks into the simple locking mechanism and the chamber door opens and he didn’t think this through, did he? He absolutely didn’t think this through, but that’s always been his problem; he’s always ached for the beaten and the broken, he’s always collected strays. What was Jericho in its infancy but a family of rescued strays?

The RK900 must be approaching critical stress levels, his LED so strongly burning red it nearly emits a sound. He’s looking at the body of the RK800, face twisted in agony. Simon approaches him slowly, palms bared.

“It’s not Connor.” He takes a guess at the source of his distress. “That’s not Connor. It’s just an android who looks like him, but it isn’t him.”

A flicker of confusion flashes over his face, and Simon crouches to meet his eyes. They’re a cold grey, like stormclouds; nothing like Connor’s warm brown eyes. They look back and forth from the body, then to him.

“It’s not Connor.” He repeats again, holding out the tablet. “RK800 313 248 317 - 90. Connor is 313 248 317 - 51. Not the same.”

The RK900 seems to tremble in relief, and Simon sets the tablet aside, scooting a little closer. 

“It’s alright. You didn’t hurt him.” His mouth is full of sharp teeth stained in blue, and Simon tries his best to keep the fear from his face. 

A flash of movement darts out, too quick for Simon to process and too late does his system realise the RK900 has grabbed his hand. Slowly the RK900 guides his hand behind his neck, pressing his palm to cup his nape. There’s a cut where there shouldn’t be one, a permanent incision between spinal plates. Leaning forward the RK900 presses his forehead to his, and he’s pleading with his eyes, pleading for something Simon can’t understand, for help he doesn’t know how to provide.

The chamber door opens again, and two things happen; the RK900 seizes up and slumps over lifelessly and Chloe, First of their Kind stands in the doorway, eyes ablaze. Her expression reminds Simon of old paintings, the ones depicting righteous holy fury that will burn everything in their wake. 

“That’s _enough_.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The situation is tense, hanging on baited breath, and they’re a spark away from everything exploding but all Simon can think about is the desperation he saw in the RK900’s eyes. The thread of thought goes from the desperation in his eyes to the despair on his face when he thought he’d killed Connor and so Simon reaches out for the RK800.

_‘Connor it’s Simon, where are you?’_

[ _Hello Simon. Presently I am on the eleventh floor of the CyberLife Tower, which is the memori-_ ]

‘ _The RK900 needs you! Come to sub-level 47!_ ’ He’s grateful for whatever twist of fate allowed Connor to be here at the same time, and with the message safely delivered he turns his attention back to Chloe. 

She’s standing in the middle of the room, face thunderous as she looks up at the CyberLife employees in the gallery. “How _dare_ you _violate_ one of us, and by using the very same method that traumatised him in the first place!” It’s as if the air crackles around with her anger, as if her fury were something tangible and perhaps it is; she has the power to make and unmake anything and everything digitally after all. “I will _end_ you, I will wipe your very existence off every record, every file; it will be as if you never existed!”

“Chloe.” Elijah Kamski enters the chamber, and she whips around, turning her murderous gaze at him. He approaches her like one approaches a dangerous animal; palms bared, steps slow and measured. “Retribution later- the RK900 needs our help _now._ ” 

For a moment Simon thinks she’ll turn on him too, but that moment passes and she composes herself; shoulders square and chin raised slightly in her usual lovely, dignified way.

“Of course.” Finally it seems she notices him, and she crouches on the opposite side of the fallen RK900. “Simon, are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine, Ms Chloe.” He reassures her, before returning his worried gaze to the RK900. “Far better than this poor android, that’s for sure.” 

“Did you see what happened?”

“Only the tail end.” He shakes his head. “I was exploring with my special elevator pass and ended up on this floor. When I approached the gallery I could see him fighting an RK800 model. Killing him brought him immense stress, I thought he was going to self-destruct or shutdown.”

“He was only rescued yesterday.” Chloe looks down at him with pity, hand moving to brush back his thirium-slick hair. “He’s Connor’s younger brother, who was never deployed because he was stolen from the facility. It was never reported since he was never activated whilst here and of course Eli and I had been long gone.”

“Where has he been this whole time?” Simon can’t help but seek his hand, squeezing it in a comforting gesture though the android is unconscious. 

“Doing this.” There’s a spark of anger in her eyes as she gestures around her. “An illegal fighting ring, streamed online discreetly for a fee. Humans bet money on androids forced to fight to the death, and he was their champion fighter.”

He closes his eyes and he thinks of North, strangely, though perhaps not so strange at all really- both androids were forced to do horrible things, unable to consent and a slave to their programming, to their captors, even when they broke through their red walls. 

“Just when I think I’ve learned the depths of their cruelty,” Simon sighs tiredly, “they prove they can dig deeper.”

“Let’s get him to our lab.” Elijah interrupts, wheeling a surgical gurney over. “I’ve had enough of this place for one day.” 

When they exit the elevator into the foyer they’re immediately crowded by familiar, anxious faces.

“Simon what happened-”

“Is that-”

“Wait who-”

Simon ignores his other Jericho trio for a moment, reaching out to Connor first. “They made him fight an RK800 model, amongst other androids.”

“I thought he’d be safe with you! I trusted you!” Hank barely restrains Connor from launching himself at a surprised Elijah Kamksi. “How could you let this happen?!”

“We were in a meeting with the Jericho Four.” Elijah cocks a brow, lips pulled back in an unimpressed scowl. “As you were told. We had no idea this was happening. Chloe was alerted because a security override was used, and that’s how she knew something had gone wrong.

“Don’t you know what he’s been through?! He- he’s been treated like a dog! He’s lived his whole life in a fighting pit!”

Markus grabs his wrist, startling him. “Simon what happened?” He repeats the question voiced earlier, brows creased with worry. “Why were you with him?”

“I was exploring the tower using my pass.” He taps the keycard on his guest lanyard. “I ended up on the testing floor by chance and there was a crowd pressed up to the glass, looking down into a chamber.” He closes his eyes briefly, trying to scrub out the image burned into his memory. “I didn’t see it happen but he must have been forced to kill at least a dozen other androids before they made him face a modified RK800. Something about Myrmidon splicing made that RK800 more dangerous, more combat-ready than Connor.”

“But he killed him?” North frowns, looking warily at the motionless android on the gurney. 

“Not by choice.” Simon says firmly. “And when he did, it nearly broke him. He was so distraught North, he looked absolutely devastated.”

“And now? What happens to him now?” Josh asks calmly, looking over at Elijah and Chloe. 

“We take him back to our lab. Secure, away from CyberLife, and away from the general populace.” Elijah replies, arms crossed and brow cocked. “Chloe and I will need to properly assess what modifications they’ve forced him to undergo and see if we can reverse them or at least rectify them.”

“I’m coming with him.” Connor declares, chin jutted stubbornly. “I already left him under your care once, I’m not doing so a second time without being there for him.”

“I’m going too.” He surprises himself with the statement, and North shoots him a glare. 

“You absolutely are _not_.”

“I am.” He meets her gaze calmly. “I will see him through this.”

“Connor and Simon, come with us to the parking lot.” Elijah sighs, the man looking more exhausted with each moment that passes. “The rest of you go home. We will take it from here, and we will set up a feed from our lab so you can be kept in the loop.” 

“You gonna be alright, kid?” Hank frowns, squeezing Connor’s shoulder.

“I will. I’ll meet you at the precinct tomorrow morning.” He looks down at the RK900. “Let me do the worrying tonight, Hank.”

“Alright.”

They use one of the CyberLife delivery trucks so the RK900 can remain on the gurney. Since the vehicle is autonomous, all four of them sit in the back with the unconscious android. 

“How did this happen?” There’s sorrow in his voice, and Simon rests his hand gently on Connor’s knee. “I thought you’d keep him safe.”

“They knew we were in a meeting with the Jericho Four.” Chloe scoffs, looking less like her dainty dollish self and more like a vengeful god. “It was a small window of opportunity and they took advantage of it, knowing our full attention was elsewhere.”

“I thought there were no others like me anymore. I thought CyberLife had them destroyed before you were reinstated.” He shoots an accusatory glare at Elijah, who shakes his head.

“There’s much about the company we’re still unravelling, Connor.” A heavy sigh. “We haven’t been at the helm for a decade, remember? CEO is merely a bunch of letters for some of the staff here, it shouldn’t be a surprise that not everyone is glad I’m back.”

“What about the fighting ring?” Simon asks Connor. “What do you know about that?”

“Not much.” His shoulders droop in defeat. “There’s a lot of encrypted data to parse through and many paths to pursue. A lot of the men responsible were killed onsite during the bust since they were armed and reacted violently to the breach.” 

“A lot, but not all?” 

“Not all.” A small smile, a small glimmer of hope. “There are six in custody.”

“Were there any other surviving fighters?”

The small smile vanishes. “No. Just my brother.” 

He’s been to the Kamski private residence a handful of times now, but it’s no less impressive. It cuts such a sharp gash into the white landscape, and Simon wonders how it’ll look when it’s Summer and the snow is gone and the greenery flourishes. Will it finally look warm and inviting? Or will it still look like it defies everything around it, much like the man and the android who lives within it?

Simon watches Chloe’s LED blink yellow sporadically, the RT600 no doubt communicating with her two sisters and PL400 brother to prepare for their imminent arrival. When the truck reverses neatly into the delivery dock at the back, the other three androids are ready and waiting. 

“Lab up and running, power diverted and space cleared.” ST200 prototype, Cassandra, informs them with a wan smile.

“Secure feed activated, and access granted to the Jericho leaders.” ST200 Prime, Candace, adds.

“And I’ve made a late lunch.” PL400 prototype, Peter, says wryly before inclining his head slightly towards Simon. “Hello little brother.”

“Hello Peter.” Simon huffs a laugh. “I wish this was a social visit.”

“We can’t always have what we wish for, but perhaps in time.” Peter smiles softly, standing aside as the RK900 is wheeled out of the truck and down into the lab. 

The private Kamski laboratory spans the entire length of the villa itself, as impressive as the abode above; it’s CyberLife replicated on a smaller scale, fully functioning, completely self-contained. It’s where six years ago Elijah and Chloe made the RK200, the revolutionary to be. Trailing the pair, Simon keeps stride with Connor as the RK900 is wheeled over to an examining table. Despite her diminutive size, Chloe scoops up the android with no visible hardship and transfers him over before busying herself with cutting open his torn, stained clothing in order to access his torso. 

“We’ll need to perform a full system diagnostic and physical inventory.” Elijah announces, lowering a backlit visor over his eyes. “We have no idea what they did to him while he was down there, and before we can treat him we need to know what we’re up against.”

“Take a seat.” Chloe gestures. “This will take a while.”

The list is extensive and Chloe is right: it takes a while. By the time they have compiled the list of modifications and programming alterations the sun is beginning to set. True to their word, the pair of them announce their findings aloud for the benefit of the live feed direct to the Jericho Administration office where Simon knows North, Markus and Josh are watching. There’s concern on their faces, and Simon can see Markus’ troubled frown even through so small a window in the bottom left of the screen.

“So you’re saying because it was done so unprofessionally that’s why it worked?”

“‘Worked’ is being overly generous.” Elijah rolls his eyes. “It’s like killing a fly with a shotgun- yes the fly is dead but you’ve also destroyed a wall.”

“What he means is that they made modifications through brute force figuratively and literally.” Chloe sighs and technically androids never tire but to Simon she looks exhausted. “They’ve ripped out components and forced experimental pieces to take their place. They’ve deleted swathes of code in order to force in their custom programming and instead of it being seamless it’s like-”

“Killing a fly with a shotgun.” North scoffs. “Is it fixable?”

“Define ‘fixable’?” Elijah’s grin is wry. “We’ll start with the basics- his vocal modulator and removing the control chip from his spine.”

“It won’t be easy.” Chloe rests her hand on the RK900’s heart. “They did everything with brute force except for that chip. They took the greatest care with that implant and it’s going to be like marathon neurosurgery to remove it and reprogram his system.”

“At the moment it’s like a brain tumor; it’s become a part of him so intricately removing it will be a painstaking process.” Elijah tips the visor up briefly to rub his eyes. “And only once we remove it can we truly know what we can and can’t fix.

“But-” Connor’s LED swirls red and Simon reaches over to squeeze his knee in comfort. “He’ll be alright after that, won’t he? By removing the chip he can at least be free from being controlled ever again?”

“Yes.” Chloe says firmly. “That much we can guarantee.”

Domestics aren’t used to being idle and Simon has to actively fight his programming; deviant or not, he still feels the overwhelming need to keep his surroundings neat and tidy. He concentrates instead on Connor, and it seems the detective is having just as much trouble trying to stay still. Reaching over, he rests his hand over Connor’s.

‘ _He’s in good hands, Connor. The best hands._ ’

[ _He’s so young, Simon, you don’t understand. He’s spent his whole life in the fighting pit, today was meant to be his first full day as a free android. If it- if they can’t fix him it means all he knows is how to be used._ ]

‘ _That’s not true._ ’ Simon squeezes his hand. ‘ _He had such a visceral reaction when he thought he killed you. That means you’re special to him. That means he loves you, and fears hurting you._ ’

[ _We were meant to work together. He was meant to be by my side._ ] Connor’s LED cycles a steady red as he looks over at the surgical table and the two figures hunched over the RK900. [ _He’s my brother, not some fighting dog forced to kill or be killed. I want him to know the world isn’t cruel and harsh, I want him to know my family and friends will care about him the way they care about me.]_

_‘We will, Connor. We’ll show him all that and more.’_

At some point he enters a light rest mode and at some point Connor must have done the same. At some point a blanket was draped around the two of them. At another point they gravitated closer, and Simon had let his head rest on Connor’s shoulder. When he wakes it’s because he’s prompted to so do very gently by Chloe, and at that point it’s 3am. 

“Hi.” Chloe’s smile is tired but happy. “He’s about to surface from standby mode.”

Connor snaps to attention, bumping Simon’s jaw when he gets to his feet immediately.

“Oh! Simon, I’m sorry!” The android hastily apologises but Simon waves it away.

“It’s alright. Let’s see how he’s doing.”

“We’ve left the teeth in for now but we’ve fixed his damaged throat and installed a new vocal modulator.” Elijah explains as they come to stand by the table. “The chip is out and though there’s still a lot of code for us to comb through, no one will be able to remotely program him anymore.”

“You’ve never come across anything like it?” Simon frowns.

“Never.” Chloe concedes. “It was startlingly complex. His disappearance from the CyberLife Tower and the intricate programming lends us to believe it was an inside job. Average tech repair programmers and IT support couldn’t have created something like this.”

“That’s for us and the DPD to pursue later,” Elijah turns his attention back to the RK900. “For now it’s time we wake this 6’5” samurai.”

“Samurai answer to their Lord.” Connor corrects. “He has no master now.”

“A _ronin_ , then?” Chloe asks. “Ronan, perhaps?”

The RK900 opens his grey eyes, colour slowly coming back to his LED. He blinks a few times before gingerly sitting up. Connor reaches for him immediately, wrapping his arms around him.

“Hello Ronan.” He greets, trying out the feel of the name. The RK900 tips his head slightly, curiosity on his face and Simon’s struck by how Connor-like the gesture is. After a moment he returns the embrace, closing his eyes as he buries his face in the crook of his brother’s neck.

“Alright,” Chloe smiles triumphantly. “Ronan it is.”

There are two familiar faces and two unfamiliar faces when he wakes. There is Connor, his brother, and the PL600 who was in the pit with him. The other two are a tall human and a small android. The small android and Connor call him ‘Ronan’ and he realises he has a name now. He is no longer ‘dog’. It is a good feeling. It isn’t a soft name but the way they say it makes it sound soft. 

“My name is Chloe, RT600.” The small android introduces herself. “This is Elijah Kamksi. We’ve removed the chip in your spine and installed a new vocal modulator so you can speak.”

His hand flies to his nape and yes, the chip is no longer in the space between his spinal plates. He prods the spot and above it and below it and yes, it really is gone. Taking Chloe’s hand, he guides her to cup his nape and he does the same to her, bringing her close so he can bump his brow to hers.

“I think this is how he communicates gratitude.” Connor smiles, and Connor is not quite right. This is the only way he knows how to communicate, actually. Speaking is not something he can seem to do.

Chloe rests her other hand on his cheek and rubs her nose against his. “You’re very welcome, Ronan.” _Ronan_ , she says, _Ronan_ , Connor says, and yes he can be Ronan; he won’t be a dog any longer. 

“How is the modulator?” Elijah prompts. “Ronan RK900, state your serial number please.”

Ronan blinks at him, brows creasing as he tips his head slightly. Serial number? 

“Is it- did it not work?” Connor frowns over at Elijah.

“No, the diagnostic report came back fine. The installation was successful.” The human looks at him the way those humans did when they were displeased with a modification. Ronan lays back down on the table and touches his throat, pulling open the maintenance hatch.

“Whoa- no!” Connor covers the opening. “No, Ronan it’s ok. If you don’t want to talk that’s ok. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to!”

“Perhaps he just needs time.” The PL600 says, and even the way he talks is soft. Ronan sits up slowly and looks at him. He has a gentle expression on his face, and Ronan thinks back to how the PL600 had soothed him, had shown him the truth that no he hadn’t killed Connor. The PL600 had risked his life coming into the pit unarmed when Ronan could have easily killed him. When he reaches for him, the PL600 steps forward and replicates the gesture, bumping their brows together and this too is soft and warm and something he never wants to lose. 

“Can he come home now?” Connor rests his palm against his back. “Is that alright?”

Chloe and Elijah exchange a look; a conversation, an argument in a glance. 

“We’d rather he not be unsupervised for now.” Elijah says at last.

“What we mean by that is you have your job with the DPD, Connor, and more importantly it’s up to you and the Lieutenant to solve Ronan’s case and bring those responsible to justice.” Chloe adds, looking from Connor to him. “He can stay at CyberLife during work hours under our observation and he can come home to you when your shift is over.”

“No, he’s not going back to CyberLife.” Connor argues, shaking his head. “He can’t go back there, not after what happened! And what do you even mean by observation? That he’d be in some holding cell again, pacing like a caged animal? You’re standing there telling me about my job when the two of you have yours too. What’s he meant to do all day if you’re both too busy running a company?”

“I’ll take care of him.” The PL600 suggests, and they all turn to look at him. “I’m a caretaker, after all.”

“Simon, we can’t expect you to do that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you expect, I’m telling you I will look after him.” Simon says matter of factly, though the corners of his mouth tip up in a patient smile. “I can remotely access my Jericho duties via a laptop. I can stay at your house, Connor, until you and the Lieutenant come home. I am adept at teaching young minds and I am, of course, rather protective over those under my wing.”

“Then it’s settled.” Elijah claps his hands together. “Ronan gets to go home with you, Connor, and Simon will ensure he isn’t left alone during work hours. It’s a win-win.”

“We’ll set up a secure connection through one of our laptops which you can use to keep us updated or ask any questions at any time.” Chloe moves to one of the workbenches and picks up a laptop. “I’ll have it directly alert me so there’s no delay if you need us.” 

“But first, let’s get you some clothes, Ronan.” Elijah claps his shoulder and chuckles. “Can’t send you out in the Detroit snow in nothing but your skin.” 

They sit in a taxi and it’s warm, warm like the borrowed coat and the borrowed shirt and trousers and socks and scarf. His shoes are not borrowed from Elijah Kamski, they are borrowed from Connor and the only item of attire that survived from the fighting and the thirium stains. His brother looks at him with a mixture of relief and nervousness, and he holds his hand tightly the way he held it yesterday when he rescued him.

Simon sits opposite them, looking out the window, mind elsewhere. His LED is a solid yellow and hasn’t changed since they left the Kamski residence. Ronan reaches over and lets just his fingertips brush Simon’s hand and the PL600 startles at the touch, before his expression smoothes into something at ease.

“Hello Ronan. Sorry, I’m a little distracted- my friends are catching me up on some work.” He taps his yellow LED. 

“Simon is the original founder of Jericho, and part of the Jericho Four.” Connor explains, displaying an image on his palm of four androids at a lecturn outside the White House. “They are the leaders of our people, Ronan. They are why we’re free.”

“Your brother is also one of the reasons why we’re free.” Simon cuts in with a smile. “Without Connor’s help we wouldn’t have survived the final stand against the military.”

They are important, the both of them, and the other three in the photo and Ronan wonders if everything had gone right, if his world really was roses and family and the DPD would he have played a part in this too? 

“You’re going to be safe with Simon.” Connor reassures and Ronan wonders why. Simon is a PL600 and he would have no problem deactivating him if he ever became a threat. Not that he thinks Simon would ever be a threat. “He’s very kind and very patient and his humor is fatalistic just like dad’s- like Hank’s.”

“I’m flattered Connor, that’s the highest of compliments!” Simon laughs and Ronan likes that sound, it’s bright and clear and has no shadows, not like the way his humans laughed, the way Zlatko laughed like it was meant to kick him down. 

When the familiar house pulls into view it is only 5am and so Connor puts his finger to his lips in a gesture commanding quiet which is fine because he is always very quiet. His brother opens the door and they enter with little sound being made and Sumo very sleepily lifts his head curiously before huffing and resting his large head back on his large paws. 

_'Hank will wake up at around 7am so we must be quiet until then.'_ Connor instructs and Ronan nods to show his understanding. 

‘ _I’d really like to get some rest, if that’s alright?_ ’ Simon rests his hand on the couch.

‘ _Of course, Simon. There’s a blanket folded on the other arm right there. Come on Ronan, best we get some light rest too. We can’t really do much else without disturbing dad._ ’

Ronan nods again, and gives Simon a small wave before trailing Connor to his bedroom. Connor carefully opens the tallboy and takes out new clothes, handing them to him. Flannel pyjamas that have a blue plaid pattern. He removes Elijah Kamski’s clothing and carefully drapes them on the back of Connor’s chair before changing into the pyjamas and this might be the best thing he’s ever worn. They crawl under the covers this time instead of just resting atop them and Connor leans in to bump his nose against his the way Chloe did. 

_‘You’ll see, Ronan- there’s so much more to being alive than the cruelty you experienced. I promise I’ll show you how wonderful it is to be alive._ ’

He believes him, he truly does, because Connor will not lie to him the way the humans lied to him all the time. He nods, hand sliding to cup Connor’s nape and after a moment Connor does the same. He closes his eyes.

It is 6am when he opens his eyes again and in truth he has not rested because he has no need to; a full system diagnostic and biocomponent reset had been performed back at the villa. Connor is in proper sleep mode, and he knows Connor needs his rest so he is careful when he leaves the bed. Padding back into the living room, he finds Simon curled up on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his chin. Sumo has gravitated closer too, curled up by the android’s feet as if he too thought to do what Ronan is doing right now; less keeping guard over a vulnerable group member and more wanting to just be near someone for the sake of being near them. Nearer to them than before. Closer, still.

He sits down and shifts so his head is resting on the same cushion as Simon’s, and he tilts his face so their foreheads touch. He reaches over and rests his fingertips over Simon’s fingers where they peek out from under the blanket. Ronan closes his eyes and promises to himself that if Simon is to look after him while his brother cannot, then he will look after Simon too and keep him safe from anyone who dares to threaten him harm; he may not be a dog anymore but he hasn’t lost the ability to bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely have no self-control I guess this isn't going to be just two chapters ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

When his alarm goes off at 7am and he manages some semblance of a morning routine, Hank expects no androids to be in his house. At the very most, perhaps _one_ android in his house, the android who’s usually meant to be there because, well, Hank’s life apparently _could_ get weirder than having to helm an investigation into a goddamn unfolding android revolution because it ultimately culminated in his adoption of an android as his son. However, Connor had stated when they parted ways at CyberLife that he’d see him at the precinct on the assumption that whatever the Kamskis had planned would take the better part of the night and early morning. 

There isn’t an absence of the aforementioned android, there isn't _just_ the presence of the aforementioned android, there’s actually _three_ androids present in his kitchen. 

“...Er-”

“Good morning Hank.” Connor greets with that puppy-like smile which he’s seen the android wield only when he knows he’s done something wrong. “Slight change of plans.”

There’s also a blond android, Simon of the Jericho Four, presently pouring a steaming mug of coffee. There’s also not!Connor- Connor’s younger but certainly not smaller brother, crouched by Sumo and methodically brushing the dog down. 

“Ronan’s going to be staying here, and Simon will look after him while we are at work.” Connor explains, and the RK900- _Ronan_ , stands up and looks at him as if seeking approval. He looks to Simon instead.

“You sure?” He accepts the mug of coffee and god does it smell heavenly. “I mean, you’re one of the Four surely you’re up to your eyeballs with work?”

“I’ll patch in to Administration. They’ll keep me updated and I can review any files from here.” Simon shrugs and fiddles with something on the stove and is that a goddamn French omelette cooked to perfection yes it does seem to be. “I am the better alternative to keeping Ronan at CyberLife, and this way I can keep Ms Chloe and Elijah updated too, rather than leaving him under the care of their untrustworthy employees.”

“Damn right.” He snorts back a weary laugh. “You ok kid? Ronan?” He tries the name out and there’s the barest spark in those grey eyes, a flash of happiness he’s too shy to properly express. Hank claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy- did you know your caretaker is one of the heroes of the revolution?” 

“Oh please.” Simon rolls his eyes, expertly scooping up the omelette and plating it up with a sprinkle of chives Hank never knew he had. “Ronan’s related to Connor. He’s the younger brother of a revolutionary- I think that trumps having one as a caretaker.”

“Doubly lucky.” Hank exaggerates a wink and the corner of Ronan’s mouth twitches up into the brief semblance of a grin. “Ok let me get some breakfast down and we’ll head off to the precinct.”

* * *

After bidding the Lieutenant and his son farewell for now, Simon closes the door and opens a new objective list.

“Right. Well. Let’s begin with Sumo’s morning walk shall we?” He clasps his hands together. “Poor dear looks like he needs to lose a bit of weight- won’t be good on his ageing joints.”

Ronan looks from Sumo to him and back again, before simply scooping up the large dog in his arms. After a moment he sets him down and takes Simon’s hand, using his finger to write on his palm: 211.

“211 pounds, goodness he does need some help!” He laughs. “Alright. I’ll get his collar and leash, and you should get changed back into the clothes Elijah loaned you.”

Ronan nods obediently before padding down the hall, Sumo faithfully trotting after him. He finds the dog’s collar and leash looped on a coat hook, and he returns to the kitchen to open up the laptop the Kamskis had given him earlier. 

“Simon, good morning.” Chloe greets with a smile. “How is Ronan settling in?”

“Just fine, Ms Chloe.” He reassures. “I wanted to ask if it’s alright to go on short outings? Lieutenant Anderson’s pantry and fridge could use some restocking, for one thing, and Ronan should have his own clothes.”

“We can permit that, yes.” Says a voice somewhere behind Chloe. “Though take care to go earlier in the day to avoid crowds.” Elijah Kamksi appears onscreen a moment later, peeking over Chloe’s shoulder. “Better to take taxis instead of public transport. I will transfer funds to cover these expenses. What’s a week’s worth of clothes cost anyway Chloe? A thousand? Is $1,000 enough?”

“About $3,000, Eli.” Chloe corrects and Simon keeps his face as passive and neutral as possible when Chloe flashes him a wink. “And then we have to factor groceries for a human, and travel costs for Simon and Ronan’s safety.”

“Alright, $5,000 sounds like it’ll be enough.” Elijah shrugs, tapping away on his phone. A moment later, a notification pings on Simon’s HUD. “Let me know if you need more. CyberLife will cover all costs.” He waves his hand dismissively, barely looking up from his phone before he vanishes to the left of the screen.

“Thank you, Elijah.” Simon congratulates himself on his steady voice as Chloe giggles conspiratorially. “Anything I should be mindful of, Ms Chloe?”

“I think in general it’s best he isn’t overwhelmed, so like Eli said, try to avoid crowds.” She stresses, LED flickering yellow briefly. “We’re decrypting the chip’s program as we speak, but it’ll take a while to break it down and analyse it properly. A week is our safe estimate and even if we finish earlier I think structuring a routine for Ronan across a week will be beneficial in helping him acclimatise to his new life.”

“A good idea.” Simon nods in understanding. “I won’t take up any more of your time- Sumo’s due for a walk. I’ll let you know if we run into any trouble.”

“Thank you Simon.” She gives him one last smile before the feed cuts off.

Ronan emerges from the hallway, Sumo at his side. His hair is tousled from when he removed his pyjamas and pulled the turtleneck knit over his head, and Simon finds himself smiling. 

“Come here, Ronan.” He reaches up and smooths his hair back, taming it into place. The other android closes his eyes, leaning into his touch and chasing it when Simon withdraws his hand and he’s struck by how puppylike the gesture is, and how touch-starved the poor android must be. He’s not sure why he does it, but he finds himself leaning in, cupping Ronan’s nape to guide him down so he can press their foreheads together. He’s not sure Connor was right when he said this was how Ronan showed gratitude- it seems more like a self-soothing gesture, a physical act to convey his desperate yearning to be close to someone, to feel something that isn’t painful. If his whole life up until now has been cage fights and experiments and blood and violence, then no wonder he imprints on anyone who shows him even the barest modicum of kindness. 

Sumo noses Simon’s other hand, and the hushed moment between them is over. Smiling, he crouches to collar the large dog and clip the leash on securely. 

“Alright Sumo, let’s get going.” 

The neighbourhood is quiet, still slowly stirring to life in the early hours of the morning. The air is just on the side of sharp, having snowed overnight and Simon shivers involuntarily; he makes a mental note to ask Chloe just who it was that decided PL600s needed thermal regulators and if he can have a stern word with them. Tugging his coat tighter around him, he flips the collar up at his nape and crosses his arms over his chest. Ronan tips his head slightly, expression inquisitive.

“I’m alright. Just a little cold, that’s all.” He smiles reassuringly, and Ronan’s brows crease as he frowns. Alright, so he’s never been good at lying. “Minor biocomponent malfunction. It’s an old, obsolete part and I haven’t been able to replace it but it’s fine, I promise. I just need to stay warm.”

The other android seems to scrutinise him for a moment before removing the scarf from around his neck. He holds it out to Simon and once again Simon feels his inadequacy so very keenly. Ronan the RK900, who would’ve been CyberLife’s most advanced, cutting edge android had he not been stolen and himself, Simon the obsolete PL600 with malfunctioning parts. Accepting the scarf, he loops it around his own neck and brings it up to cover his nose so his air intake is minimal, in turn ensuring less icy air makes it to his thermal regulator. 

“Thank you Ronan.” He mumbles into the scarf, darting him a glance and only a glance because anything longer might reveal how ashamed he truly feels. It’s bad enough being around Markus, what more now he’s standing beside the pinnacle of technological achievement. He shakes his head to shake off such thoughts- there are more important things at hand than wallowing in self pity and he knows well how dangerous it is for his mental health if he idles. He must keep himself busy, and there’s an extensive list at the ready to do so. 

They walk twice around the block before returning home, and Ronan shows him where Sumo’s food is kept so he can pour him some breakfast. After the dog is taken care of, Simon makes them both a cup of hot Tearium and the heat soothes his internal temperature, helping it settle into something more manageable so he can return the scarf and pretend he’s perfectly fine again.

  
Right. Onto clothes. Ronan cuts a fine figure in Elijah Kamski’s clothes and Simon figures it won’t be harmful to stay within a similar style. What would Markus do, where would Markus go? Macy’s, he thinks, is probably a good, safe bet. They can take a taxi and get there just about when it opens and slip out before it gets too crowded.

“Ready to update your wardrobe?” He steps forward and fusses over the lapels of the handsome woolen coat, the rich ink blue colour complimenting Ronan’s pale skin and sharp grey eyes. “I’m sure if Markus were in my shoes he’d have a runway worthy wardrobe planned out for you in seconds but alas you’re stuck with me.”

In the taxi he watches Ronan watch the world, and the innocence that radiates from his captivated expression. He tries not to think of the world he’d been trapped in, all that darkness and despair. Had he ever seen the sun before Connor rescued him? Had anyone ever touched him kindly, had anyone ever worried over his well-being beyond what profits they could extract from him? Inching his hand across, he rests his fingertips on the back of Ronan’s hand hoping to offer some sort of light, reassuring affection without confusing the other android. Ronan looks down at their hands, blinking slowly as if processing what he’s seeing, before he pulls his hand away only to rest it over Simon’s properly, clasping his fingers. He turns his curious gaze to Simon directly and Simon huffs a laugh; it’s as if Ronan is correcting him, teaching him the proper way to hold hands in case Simon didn’t know. _Like this,_ his expression seems to say, _you hold hands like this._

How anyone could ever treat Ronan like an animal, when he’s more human than many humans Simon’s interacted with absolutely boggles him. And infuriates him too. There’s a hint of that same boyish charm Connor has, there’s the makings of that same easy grin-smile and though he doesn’t have the same warmth of Connor’s brown eyes there’s something deep and wise about the storm clouds gathered there. 

[ _Hey Si, you ok?_ ]

 _‘Good morning North.’_ He blinks in surprise. _‘I’m fine. Something up?’_

[ _Nah, just wanted to check in on you and the Terminator._ ]

_‘The Termi- North that’s a horrible name!’_

[ _It’s what they’re calling him- the DPD I mean. We met with Hank and Connor this morning and those on the task force nicknamed him the Terminator after watching the footage they pulled._ ]

 _‘His name is Ronan.’_ He feels indignant anger simmer beneath skin- not directed at North, but at the humans who forced him to behave in such a way to warrant such a nickname.

[ _Ronan? Cute. He settling in ok? Did Kamski fix him up?_ ]

‘ _He’s doing well. Everything is new to him, so I’m trying to make sure he’s not overwhelmed. Ms Chloe and Elijah fixed the control chip problem and his missing vocal modulator but he doesn’t seem to...want to speak. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.’_

[ _He went through hell, Si. We watched some of the footage to try and identify the victims._ ] Her voice loses the light conversational tone and he can hear the strain on her emotions. [ _Also Josh managed to crack the video log encryption and we uncovered an entire cache of other files. The fuckers recorded all the surgeries they performed on him. He wasn’t-_ ]

There’s a long pause, and Simon frowns, prompting her. ‘ _Wasn’t what?_ ’

[ _In standby. He was awake the whole time. Every single time, Simon._ ] He shuts down the communication channel, closing his eyes as his stress levels spike uncomfortably high. Beside him, Ronan makes an inquisitive hum in his throat, squeezing his hand. He can feel North trying to reach him again but he blocks the connection, choosing instead to look at Ronan. He aches for him, he realises. He aches and _aches_ for him, for all that he’s suffered, for all that he’s been through, Simon aches as though the pain were his. Shifting closer, he brings their clasped hands to his lap and leans against Ronan’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. 

By the time they pull up to the department store, Simon’s managed to compartmentalise his emotions with that nasty habit he developed over the long period of his deviancy. 

“Well.” He looks at him, expression serious. “If it gets overwhelming, if it’s just too much- hold my hand and squeeze, ok? We’ll leave right away and head back home.” 

Ronan nods, and Simon offers a small smile. “Alright then. Time to get you some clothes.”

He tries to stick to a similar style to the borrowed clothes Ronan’s wearing- crisp tailored lines, long and lean in dark solid colours. He looks good in rich colours and Simon’s never really been one for fashion the way their fearless leader and his eccentric human father are but Ronan’s easy to shop for. He looks like he belongs in high fashion ad campaigns, what with his tall built and sharp features and the debonair sweep of his dark hair offset by those piercing steel eyes. They make their way through the sparsely populated menswear level, still early enough in the morning it’s mostly staff and not customers. The humans don’t really know what to do with them, half of them unsure as to whether they should offer help or not, and the other half barely restraining their disdain. The android staff take all of a second to realise who Simon is and then the ones still with LEDs are blinking bright yellow as they look at him with a sort of awestruck expression. What a sight they must be- revolutionary PL600 and not-Connor buying coats and slacks and polished shoes. 

Ronan pauses by one of the cube shelving displays and Simon follows his gaze.

“Oh, yes it’s a good idea to grab a couple of scarves.” He nods, eyes roaming over the broad selection. “Would you like something textured or something smooth? Like a cable-knit scarf or perhaps just a solid scarf?” He holds out the two options and Ronan sets down the boutique bags in order to take one in each hand. His brows crease briefly as he rubs the different textures between his fingers before he holds out the knitted one and nods. Simon grins.

“Knitted scarves it is. How about these two? They’re both striped but it’s subtle and not too loud.” Ronan nods, before looking over at another shelf of scarves. He chooses a solid scarf with a blue check pattern and it feels impossibly soft when he places it in Simon’s hands.

“Oh, this one too? It’s lovely isn’t it, yes it’d match your new coat.” Simon smiles encouragingly, but Ronan shakes his head. Taking the scarf from him, he loops it around Simon’s neck. 

“For...me?” A nod. “Oh. Well...alright. I guess I’ll take it as my commission.” He laughs, endeared by the hopeful look on Ronan’s face. “Thank you Ronan, I do like it very much.”

He wears it out of the store and as they sit in the taxi on the journey back home, Simon realises the warmth he’s feeling has nothing to do with the scarf at all.

* * *

These clothes are _his_ clothes, not Connor’s, not Elijah Kamski’s. He lays them out on the bed after unpacking them from the bags and unwrapping them from the paper tissue. He owns these things, they are his and no one else’s and Simon helped choose them for him. He likes them more than Connor’s clothes, more than Elijah Kamski’s clothes because Simon didn’t choose those, Simon chose _these_ clothes and now they are his. Carefully hanging them up in Connor’s closet, he takes a step back and looks at the space they take up. He is taking up space now. He is here in Connor’s life, in Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s life. He is not in a basement to be hosed down and cracked open and forced to fight. He is permitted to use things and have things and take up space. It is a curious feeling, trying to process what that means for him. It hurts but it isn’t painful, it’s like winning a fight but there’s no blood in it. 

“Right. We should head to the supermarket and pick up groceries.” Simon pokes his head into the room. “It’s a weekday so it shouldn’t be too crowded but it’s almost lunch so it might become quite busy.” 

He nods to show he understands, and though he doesn’t have time to completely change out of Elijah Kamski’s clothes, he does tug on one of his new coats and one of his new scarves. Simon is still wearing the scarf he chose for him, and that too is a good-hurt feeling.

He has Connor’s memories in his mind, so he knows objectively what a supermarket is but it’s a different thing to be in it. There’s lots of sights and sounds and smells and it’s a little bit too much to process but not too much he wants to run from it. He holds onto the little basket Simon offered him, and Simon holds one too, and they meander up and down each aisle. 

“Shall I make a brisket casserole for dinner tonight?” He asks and Ronan doesn’t know what that is. “That’s not too much is it? I made it for Carl and Leo last weekend and they seemed to like it a lot. We’ll need some wine and root vegetables. Brisket of course. Does Hank have a casserole dish? No, perhaps not. Hm.” He talks in a steady stream of questions and answers and Ronan decides this must be a process of elimination for Simon. “Should I go for shepherd’s pie instead? That’s very simple but hearty. Ok we’ll go with that. We’ll need potatoes, carrots, onions. Shall we go with lamb instead of beef mince? Yes, that’ll be better. Oh and herbs, we’ll need-”

Simon flitters about, selecting vegetables and other ingredients and putting them either in his basket or his own. Other items are also selected for the household, not for dinner. Staples, Simon calls them. Milk, bread, eggs. Toothpaste, mouthwash, toilet paper. Canned vegetables. Dry pasta. He is a PL600, and Ronan knows from Connor’s extensive database that means Simon is a domestic android, programmed to run a household. This is what he is doing right this very moment- running Lieutenant Anderson’s household. He wonders what it would’ve been like to be Connor watching Simon as part of the Four and fighting for their right to be free, to be considered alive. He wonders if Simon would ever trust him enough to share his memories the way Connor shared his. He hopes he has behaved well enough to not be considered untrustworthy.

When they get home he helps dutifully put away all the groceries. Simon opens the laptop on the counter and checks in with Chloe RT600 and Elijah Kamski and he tells them everything is fine, which it is, and they are glad. After that Simon apologises to him and tells him he needs to go over some documents and attend a few meetings virtually for Jericho and that’s fine because that is his duty and Ronan is very quiet. 

He sits in the lounge with Sumo and brushes Sumo’s fur not because it needs brushing again but because the dog really likes the soothing repetitiveness of the action. In a way it is beneficial for him too, because he too enjoys the soothing repetitiveness of the action. Sumo snuffs at his hand, nosing it to indicate he wants pats and Ronan pats him the way Connor taught him, the way Sumo likes. The dog flops over his legs the moment he sits down properly, Sumo’s heat a pleasant sensation permeating through his clothes and spreading across his dermal layer. He hopes he will not disappoint Connor and Lieutenant Anderson. He hopes they will keep him and he can stay here and pet Sumo whenever he wants. He can be useful, he can hold shopping baskets and he’s good at listening and he can make sure Sumo stays a healthy weight with frequent walks and a well balanced diet. 

When Sumo drifts off to sleep, Ronan closes his eyes and starts to carefully prod at the house’s connections. He finds the internet line and tethers himself to it without even really knowing how. He tugs on it like a rope and it pulls him in turn and he swims through the data pool and busies himself with learning all about the past three months and the revolution he missed. There are hundreds of articles of various levels of bias, and he wades through opinion pieces and watches videoclips of both professional and bystander quality. Markus, leader of Androids, is an eloquent figure both compassionate and clever and he can see why their people look to him. Ronan soaks up all he can about the Jericho Four, about his brother’s role in turning the tide of power when he freed the AP700s and marched through the streets of Detroit.

There’s very little to learn about Simon, purposefully so as stated by Simon himself. Other than him being a PL600 and the oldest member of Jericho, there’s little else to glean. He’s curious, but he knows not to pry because an android’s origins more often than not are stories steeped in pain and Simon, for all the kindness he’s shown, certainly does not deserve to experience it all over again for the sake of public knowledge. 

Connor, on the other hand, has his entire life uploaded for the world to see. He is an open book to be read, and there’s something both brave and brash about such a feat. Perhaps it is Connor’s way of rebelling against CyberLife, a way to show the world what they made him do and how he has changed his life for the better now he is in control. There are articles about RK100, Amanda Stern, the first human-to-android hybrid. Hers is a face he recognises all too well, and there are interviews surfacing now she has been freed from her digital prison and hers is a tale of cages too only she was kept online in CyberLife’s servers and duplicates of her were made to handle the RK800s. It was the Jericho Four and Connor who overthrew CyberLife’s CEO and reinstated Elijah Kamksi who in turn made the RT600 CEO at his side. The RK100 was freed and given her own body and her mind is an unbroken line that originated from a human body, uploaded into a digital mind and then downloaded into an android body. He wonders if Amanda will recognise him, if she will remember him, if he can still make her proud.

“Ronan?” Simon’s touch is gentle on his shoulder, and he opens his eyes to find the android leaning down with an equally gentle expression on his face. “Would you like to help me make dinner for Hank?”

He nods, carefully extracting himself from beneath Sumo, the dog grumbling at the disturbance before rolling onto his other side and settling back to sleep. Hours have passed since he sat down with Sumo, and he’d been unaware of how much time he’d lost to his thirst for knowledge until now. The sky is darkening rapidly outside, the sun starting to slip beneath the horizon and the temperature is dropping too. He thinks of Simon’s broken thermal regulator, and reaches out into the house, finding the thermostat and adjusting it to feed warmth into the kitchen and lounge. 

They stand at the sink to wash their hands diligently and then Simon retracts the skin from his right hand, reaching for his. He pauses, hand hovering just over his without actually touching, before he pulls his hand away. 

“Actually, how about I teach you physically? I’m not sure Ms Chloe thinks it’s a good idea for data transfers to be made just yet.” Simon’s smile is apologetic, the skin slowly covering the gleaming white plastic of his hand again. He nods and accepts the offered knife and this is the first time he’s been trusted with one and not been ordered to kill with it.

“Alright, so we need to chop the potatoes and carrots - I’ve already peeled and washed them.” His voice takes on a patient tone, one Ronan assumes is reserved for dealing with children and he supposes he is a child on some accounts. Simon demonstrates and he follows and he finds that just like brushing Sumo there is something soothing to be found in the repetitiveness of the action. He is doing something useful with his hands; he is making instead of breaking. Simon places a skillet on the stovetop and he pushes the mince around with the onions and Ronan watches the meat change colour and the kitchen fills with the scent of cooking. He helps mash the potatoes and cover the pie filling with them and then Simon eases the dish into the oven and announces the completion of their mission. He’s smiling proudly, a big smile that’s real and kind and Ronan likes it a lot. They stand at the sink together and wash the cooking utensils and Simon bumps his elbow lightly against his.

“You did very well Ronan. You’ll make a great sous chef yet.” He smiles again, that same proud smile, and Ronan tries to smile in return. It’s an odd gesture, his face unused to pulling on his mouth that way, not when he’s so used to snarling and baring his teeth but he’s not a dog anymore, he tells himself. He is not a dog, he is Ronan RK900, brother to revolutionary Detective Connor RK800 Anderson. 

“Ah, there it is.” Simon’s voice softens, and he cups his palm against his cheek. “I knew you could do it.” He guides him to lean down and Ronan closes his eyes as he presses their foreheads together. He makes a soft hum in his throat, a sound he didn’t know he could make but it feels right to do so at this very moment. 

There are sounds outside; a car pulling up, doors opening, footsteps, keys jangling, a lock being turned, Sumo yawning and getting up to pad to the door. Simon steps back and he misses the closeness immediately. 

“Goddamn does that smell _amazing_!” Hank laughs as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it up on a hook, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

“Shepherd’s pie, just about done.” Simon greets him with a smile, offering Connor a little wave when the android steps into the house a moment later. 

“Hello Simon. Was your day productive?” Connor inquires as he crouches to give Sumo a hug and a few pats. 

“Yes it most certainly was.” Simon declares with a nod. “Now, I’ll just take the pie out of the oven and it’ll need to rest about ten minutes before you tuck into it, Hank. I’ll head out now- I still have to meet with North and discuss some Jericho matters.” 

“Holyshit did you restock my pantry?” Hank calls out from the kitchen. 

“Yes, and Ronan has clothes of his own now too.” He takes his scarf from the hook and winds it around his neck before turning back to face them. “Alright, I’ll see you all at 8am tomorrow.”

“Thank you Simon, we really appreciate all this.” Connor grasps his hand in a firm shake. “With all that happened yesterday I don’t trust CyberLife to look after my brother. So thank you.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Connor.” Simon reassures him with a smile, looking over to offer him one too. “Goodnight, Anderson family.”

He waves goodbye and Ronan does too and then he leaves and he misses him so much already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothin' fam, I just want to write Sofd RK900 so thanks for indulging me
> 
> Elijah: *Lucille Bluth voice* What can a set of clothes cost Chloe, $1000?


	4. Chapter 4

The Manfred Manor is the complete opposite of the Kamski villa, all rich cherry lacquer and grand sweeping curves and vivid splashes of colour. It fills him with warmth even before he’s stepped inside the opulent abode, and Simon finds himself smiling tiredly as his feet carry him to the door.

[ _ Alarm deactivated; welcome back, Simon. _ ]

The interior is always kept warm for the sake of Carl’s health, and Simon’s always welcomed the heat provided by the state of the art temperature stabiliser.

“Hey Simon.” Markus wanders in from the common room, exuding the same warmth in his smile, his eyes, as that which Simon leeches desperately from the environment. “How was your day?”

“Incredibly domestic, in the nicest, most familiar way possible.” He quips and Markus laughs as he guides him to join the others. His fingers pinch the tail end of his scarf, rubbing the fabric with his thumb. 

“This is beautiful. Pure cashmere, and the blue matches your eyes.” He makes a pleased hum as Simon feels his cheeks flood with heat.

“Oh um. Ronan picked it out for me, while we shopped for some clothes for him.”

“Shopping trip and you didn’t invite me?” Markus pretends to be insulted, hand on his chest. 

“Listen, it was for just the basics but if Ronan gets invited for a fashion shoot I promise I’ll call.” He vows with a grin and Markus laughs brightly. 

“Hey Si.” North gives a lazy wave from where she’s sprawled on the couch. 

“Glad to have you join us, Simon.” Josh smiles from the armchair. Simon takes a seat on the other couch, Markus dropping beside him a moment later. Tension unwinds from his shoulders and it feels  _ right _ to be here, it feels like he’s finally complete.

“There’s- as always, a lot to go over tonight but of course we have a new, far more pressing matter.” Markus sighs, and Simon can see the mask sliding into place; he speaks to them as a leader, and not as a friend. “North spoke to you briefly about what Lieutenant Anderson and Connor uncovered at the DPD, and what Josh managed to decrypt.”

“They recorded the surgeries not by using a phone or an external recording device.” Josh’s voice has a sombre tone. “They used a PJ500. The data encryption program is identical to the one I used when I taught at the university. It’s a way to keep lecture recordings confidential, and only available to those with a certain decryption key.”

“DPD provided a list of serial numbers from the victims found onsite so they’ll be added to our memorial.” Markus reaches over to briefly hold Josh’s hand. “The PJ500 was most likely executed the moment the raid began, as a way for the humans to try and protect their secrets. They shot them through the hearts and head, however the DPD technicians were able to salvage enough of the positronic core for Josh to access.”

“The remains found onsite were only recent deaths, so they must have had a way to dispose of the other bodies.” North’s sigh isn’t tired, it’s angry and frustrated. “That means there’s more unknown victims.”

“And the livestreams?” Simon prompts. “Is there a way to identify the victims from that?”

“Not really.” Markus frowns, shaking his head. “Either the victims had no discerning features, or the victims were experiments and too unique to identify by sight alone.”

“Wait.” Simon holds up his hand. “Wait. Ronan is an RK900, right? He was meant to be Connor’s successor in the field, that means he’s built to function similarly to Connor.”

North sits bolt upright, nearly bouncing on the spot as she waves her hand. “The- the licky thing! The chemical lab in his mouth!”

“Ronan was forced to ingest the thirium of his opponents because he wasn’t provided with fresh thirium.” Josh says slowly, nodding as he realises what Simon’s implying. “He would have unknowingly identified each and every victim.”

Simon tries not to let his imagination run wild with that statement, tries not to think of Ronan, soft Ronan forced to cannibalise fellow androids to survive. He hasn’t seen the footage, and he has no intention of seeing it. What he’d been meaning to suggest was that Ronan would’ve been able to scan androids the way Connor scanned androids automatically, and uncovered their identity by reading their serial number printed below their eye socket. 

“I’ll put it to Connor tomorrow.” Simon promises. “Depending on how he’s feeling, either Ronan comes to Jericho or we can patch through remotely.” 

Markus nods and then that’s the end of that particular topic, thankfully,  _ blessedly _ . They move on to their usual issues- housing, supplies, the political climate, the social climate, and Simon loses himself to their avid, at times heated discussions. It’s nearing 2am when he starts to flag, his processor warning him to enter standby mode to allow his system to refresh and recharge.

“I need to rest.” Simon implores them, too tired to feel ashamed or guilty, though he knows none of them would ever hold that against him. “I have to be back at the Andersons before 8am.” 

“Of course.” Markus squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll make the couch bed.”

Back before the revolution, before Markus quite literally fell into their lives, Simon’s malfunctioning thermal regulator meant he sought warmth during cold nights. It was always worse during late Autumn and Winter, so Josh tried his best to keep his friend warm. It’s a habit neither of them have been willing to break, even now when they’re in a home with state of the art heating and a bed heaped with blankets and quilts. It’s a habit North picked up too, and that’s why after Markus heads to his room- yes, Markus Manfred with his bedroom and his bed and his pyjamas because unlike the rest of them he’s always lived his life as a human, North and Josh bracket Simon beneath the sheets. It’s a far cry from their sad little huddle in Jericho, but the affection is still the same. They hold him and he feels safe enough to feel tired and raw and vulnerable, and he loves them all the more for it. 

[ _ You alright, Si? You ok being stuck at home all day babysitting? _ ] North digs her chin in the crook of his neck as she spoons him, arms locked around his waist. 

_ ‘It’s actually incredibly comforting.’ _ Simon confesses with a huff.  _ ‘My PL600 programming kicks into gear and I get to just lose myself in the mundane chore list.’ _

[ _ And the RK900? _ ] Josh prompts, nose in Simon’s hair. 

_ ‘Ronan.’ _ His mouth smiles without him really telling it to. _ ‘He’s...brand new. He may have been activated not long after Connor but he’s only truly been free for two days. Everything is a new experience for him. Everything that isn’t painful, that is. It’s nice to be able to show him how boring and ordinary life can be.’ _

[ _ This is good for you, Simon. _ ] Josh’s tone is gentle as he squeezes him close and Simon thinks of hundreds of nights at Jericho that passed just like this, with Josh being protective and safe and warm. [ _ He is good for you. _ ] He doesn’t know what to say to that and Josh takes his pause as a permission granted to continue. [ _ All our duties at Jericho have been wearing you down, don’t try and deny it. There’s no one else as patient, as kind and as gentle as you, Simon. Taking care of him is good for you. You’re in your element, and I’m sure Connor would trust his brother to no other. _ ] 

Simon feels his chest ache as he burrows into Josh’s embrace, unable to convey an adequate reply with words. Josh’s smile is in his soft tone as he repeats himself; an affirmation. [ _ He is good for you, Simon. _ ]

* * *

For all its grandeur, the Manfred Manor requires no help from Simon to keep it neat and tidy. Markus confessed one afternoon when Simon arrived before Josh and North, and caught him wiping down the kitchen benchtop that there was comfort to be found in falling back onto their original programming. It’s a domestic thing, Simon had laughed and Markus had laughed too and his expression had been boyish and sheepish and ever so handsome. CyberLife replaced Markus with an AP700 after he was tossed into the scrapyard that fateful night, and even after deviating Sean stayed on to look after Carl when his son could not. Sons, plural now, since Leo is still in the midst of his recovery journey. 

Still, Simon understands all too well how soothing it can be to not have to worry about the fate of other androids, to lose himself to scrubbing and dusting and sweeping and mopping. It’s mindless, it’s harmless, it’s entirely therapeutic: it’s why he’s secretly ecstatic to be in charge of the Anderson household. Not that the house is filthy, far from it, but it’s only barely tidy and Connor is certainly no domestic. After taking care of the pantry and fridge yesterday, Simon sets cleaning as today’s main task. The whole house needs a good top to floor scrubbing and under no circumstances will Simon ever confess how excited that makes him feel, to be in charge of a house again with things to do and no one’s life on the line.

“Good morning Simon.” Connor greets when he opens the door and it’s 7:45am. 

“Good morning Connor.” He steps inside the house and the thermostat is running higher today than it had been yesterday, and Simon’s grateful for it. With the greatest of care he unwinds his gifted scarf and hangs it up with his coat before joining him in the kitchen. 

“We’ve got some leads to chase, some people to bother.” Hank informs him between gulps of coffee. “Gonna be pretty busy today now that we’ve got the footage from the livestreams and the err, the surgeries.”

“I hope it’s a fruitful day, Lieutenant.” He replies earnestly. “The sooner we can get justice for the victims, the better.”

“I hope so too, kiddo.” Hank sighs heavily, draining the last of his coffee before shutting the mug in the dishwasher. “Right, let me grab my stuff and then we’re off.” He disappears down the hall, and Simon makes sure Ronan is distracted thoroughly with Sumo’s grooming before he threads a connection to Connor.

_ ‘Do you know if Ronan has the same forensic capabilities as your model?’ _

[ _ Yes _ .] Connor nods, looking over at his brother. [ _ He was built to succeed me in every way, though he’s built with even greater combat abilities, and less social programming. _ ]

_ ‘I… Josh mentioned last night that footage shows Ronan...drinking the thirium of the other victims.’ _ It hurts to force the words out, even if he doesn’t say them aloud. _ ‘Would he have identified each and every android opponent that way? Could he give the DPD and Jericho the serial numbers of each of those androids?’ _

Connor frowns deeply, brows creasing. [ _ I never thought of that. My forensics program automatically analyses any substance it comes into contact with, including processed thirium. It would not be erroneous to assume Ronan would have done the same every time he ingested thirium from other androids. _ ]

_ ‘I was thinking of perhaps inviting him to come with me to Jericho today.’  _ Simon ventures, wringing his hands anxiously.  _ ‘If he’s not up to it we can hold a virtual meeting via the laptop. Either way, if successful we’ll have a full list of the victims not only for our memorial but also for the DPD to pursue connections.’ _

Connor’s responding nod is a little reluctant. [ _ I can’t make the decision for him, but Jericho might be too overwhelming for Ronan right now. If he agrees to accompany you- _ ]

_ ‘I will ensure he can safely leave at any moment if it becomes too much.’  _ He vows sternly. _ ‘We won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to.’ _

“Ready to go?” Hank reappears in the doorway, car keys in hand.

“Ready.” Connor nods, sparing Simon another glance. [ _ I trust you to take care of him, because he trusts no one else _ .]

Right. First things first- Sumo’s walk. When he looks over at the younger RK once the pair have gone, Ronan rises from where he’d been brushing the dog and retrieves Sumo’s collar and leash from the hook. 

“Collar and leash for Sumo.” Simon ticks off the items on his hand. “Warm coat and scarf for you, Ronan. I’ll put mine on now, why don’t you grab yours from the closet?” 

By the time Ronan emerges from his shared room, he’s in Elijah’s black coat but wearing a set of his new clothes beneath as well as the knitted forest green scarf. Simon thinks back on Markus’ words last night and thinks Ronan looks ready for a fashion shoot even without Manfred intervention. 

The weather is just as sharp today as it was yesterday and once again Simon pulls the scarf up over his nose to keep his oxygen intake low and spare his struggling biocomponents the chill. The CX100, the upgraded PL600 model combined with sexual capabilities to be intimate partners for humans, lack the thermal regulator that burdens the PL600s. It was so costly a mistake for his line that CyberLife never used it any other succeeding model. He wonders if Ronan feels the cold at all, and if he even needs the use of scarves. Or perhaps it’s worn for the same reason as humans wearing glasses frames with no prescriptive glass lenses: fashion. The thought makes him smirk wryly to himself, and he side-steps closer to Ronan, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow the way he loops an arm through the crook of Josh’s elbow when they’re walking. Ronan blinks at him quizzically before refocusing on Sumo walking ahead, seemingly taking it all into stride both figuratively and literally. 

Ronan is no domestic, but by the time Simon embarks on his cleaning tasks, the RK900 proves himself a diligent helper. When Simon tutts that the lounge probably hasn’t been vacuumed properly in years because there’s dust gathering beneath the furniture, Ronan simply lifts up the couch- Sumo and all so he can run the vacuum under it. It makes him laugh, and so Ronan continues to just go around the room and lift up all the furniture as if they were children’s toys, as if they were in a dollhouse and everything were in miniature. Idly he realises he hasn’t laughed so freely since before his deviancy, and the thought makes him smile. 

Ronan’s 6’5” height also means he can reach just a little higher than Simon. PL600s stand at a neat 6’1” - just above average but not too tall which is fine for reaching the top of the fridge but not the top of the bookshelves or cabinetry. He wonders just how incensed, how furious CyberLife’s RK900 team would be, or even those from the fighting ring, if Simon were to send them footage of their android wearing an apron and dusting the architraves and headrails of Hank’s blinds. 

Together they make short work of the lounge and the kitchen, but Simon avoids Hank’s bedroom since he didn’t seek permission first. He will tackle the bathroom and laundry later, in favour of making them both steaming mugs of Tearium and sitting Ronan down so he can decide what to do.

They sit on the couch and Simon hopes it’s not just his wishful thinking when they seem to gravitate closer to each other, thighs brushing and elbows knocking. He knows what he is, knows that he’s quietly, desperately needy for validation and affection and all the things he’s always yearned for that were always just out of reach. 

“Ronan, as an RK900 Connor told me that you share similar programming to him.” Simon begins slowly, giving Ronan time to sip his hot drink and ease him into the difficult conversation. “That includes the ability to analyse chemical compounds in your mouth, essentially functioning as a laboratory in real time at crime scenes.”

The other android nods, expression attentive and so Simon continues. “Fresh thirium is blank but when it’s processed by our hearts it’s charged with information unique to our system. An android’s processed thirium becomes like human DNA, and they can be identified using it.”

He looks him in the eyes and watches Ronan digest the information. “The victims of the fighting ring were disposed of after each match and the DPD haven’t been able to trace them. They might have had families who miss them and even if they didn’t, they deserve to be remembered. We don’t know who they were, and the humans who ran the ring kept no records other than broadcasting the model names on their ads.”

Ronan looks away, LED cycling red and holding. Putting down the mug, he raises a hand and touches his lips, expression full of shame. 

“When they made you drink the blood of your opponents to survive, you would have subconsciously identified each android by their unique serial number.” Simon reaches out and holds his other hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If you could give us those serial numbers, we could give each victim proper respect, and a chance for justice to be dealt.”

Brows creased, Ronan looks to him with confusion. “No one will force you to do anything, or go anywhere. We can stay here and if you want to, we can use the laptop and connect you to Connor and Hank at the DPD, or Ms Chloe and Elijah at CyberLife. They can help you extract the information. Or…” Simon pauses nervously. “Or I can take you to Jericho to meet our people. To be with our kind. Josh is a PJ500, and in charge of our memorial. He was the one who decrypted the video logs. He can help you, if you let him.”

Ronan looks away again, picking up the mug and cupping it in both hands more for its comforting heat than for its contents. Simon says nothing, giving him time to make his decision and it’s just when he thinks it’s best to just drop the matter altogether for now that Ronan hesitantly reaches for his hand. 

“Jericho?” He asks hopefully, and Ronan nods. “To Jericho, then.”

It could be a mistake. It could be a very very big mistake. Or, Simon reasons with himself and allows that small seed of optimism at least the chance to sprout, it could be the very thing Ronan’s needed all along. Deviancy had been devastating for most androids, exacerbated by isolation, and the revolution proved not just strength was found in numbers but hope too. Maybe showing Ronan, immersing him amongst others who also suffered deeply will aid in his journey of recovery. 

He’s directed the taxi to take a different route, to use the discreet hidden entrance to Jericho so they won’t have to come via the crowded thoroughfare. It’s the entrance Markus uses often, otherwise what would be a simple act of walking from the gates to the main Administration warehouse could take him a solid hour because the RK200 is kind and charismatic and has trouble saying no. Simon’s grateful for it, for similar reasons but also so Ronan can avoid the busy throng of androids in the densely populated area.

_ ‘We’re here, Josh. We’ll meet you soon.’ _ Simon connects to his friend and he feels Josh’s smile against the connection. 

[ _ Ready and waiting. _ ]

“Good afternoon, Simon.” One of the guards greets with a respectful nod before focusing on Ronan’s looming figure with a wary frown.

“This is Connor’s brother, Ronan.” He introduces, and all at once their demeanour changes into one of warmth and friendliness.

“Oh, hello! It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Jericho.” They shake his hand, and Ronan blinks a few times before nodding. 

“We’re headed for Administration.” Simon rests a hand on the small of Ronan’s back, guiding him forward. “Josh is waiting.”

“Of course, of course.” They smile and wave them through. 

Ronan’s LED blinks red a few times before cycling yellow and holding. Simon moves his hand to hold his, squeezing his fingers encouragingly.

“It’s alright. You’re safe here.” He soothes, coming to a stop to allow Ronan to acclimatise to his surroundings. Even through the back entrance into Jericho it’s relatively busy, with administration androids milling about as well as the regular patrol guards. After a moment Ronan turns to look at him and nods, LED flickering blue and then remaining yellow once more. They don’t rush, and Simon ensures they take their time making their way to meet Josh. A few androids wave at them and Simon returns their greetings, trying to keep his expression bright and cheery so when their gazes inevitably turn to Ronan they glean he’s nothing of concern; safe by association. 

“Good afternoon, Professor.” Simon teases when he sees Josh standing at the entrance to the main building.

“You’re late for class, Simon.” He sighs dramatically as he enfolds him in a hug before turning to the other android. “Ronan, it’s nice to meet you properly at last.” He shakes his hand and Ronan nods a little shyly before following them inside. Josh shows them to one of the sequestered meeting rooms and shuts the door for privacy. On the table is a tablet.

“We’ve specifically altered this one to be a secure memory storage which only I will have access to. You can upload the serial numbers to this and I’ll be able to add them to our memorial and pass them onto Connor for the investigation.” Josh explains, sliding the tablet closer to Ronan once they’re all seated. “RK800s store their forensic analysis notes in a specific folder, in a format compatible with CSI computers and the DPD database. Connor’s shown me how to access that folder on his system, and we hope it’s in a similar location in yours. But only if you want me to.”

Josh offers him his hand, skin peeling back to reveal his white casing. Ronan looks at his own hand before frowning, LED turning red again. After a moment it fades yellow and holds, before Ronan reaches out and clasps Josh’s hand. 

Picking up the tablet with his other hand, Josh’s eyes turn black as he switches to input mode and the screen soon floods with information. Too much, Simon thinks. The serial numbers scroll down seemingly endlessly before Josh sets the device down and lets go of Ronan. There’s a stretch of silence, Josh’s expression one of deep sorrow and Simon knows exactly why- he’s just catalogued every single victim that died at the hands of the android sitting across from him. It’s a burden Simon selfishly is thankful he doesn’t share with his oldest friend; the Jericho Memorial is not his responsibility and is an undertaking of Josh’s own making. Ronan seems to curl inward on himself, crossing his hands across his chest and ducking his head in a gesture of shame. His LED returns to red like a bright hot ring branded into his temple. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Ronan.” Josh says firmly. “They made you do horrible things to survive. None of that is on you. You’ve given me something very precious, and now we can finally seek justice for all those lives lost.” 

His compassion has always floored Simon, and it’s one of the traits he’s always admired in the PJ500. Reluctantly, Ronan raises his head to gaze at Josh, mirroring his sorrow.

“I’m so sorry they put you through all that. I’m so sorry, Ronan.” Josh offers his hand again and this time Ronan doesn’t hesitate to take it. There’s no information exchange, just an offer for comfort and reassurance, and Ronan clutches him like he’s offered a lifeline.

[ _ 186 _ ]

_ ‘Hm?’ _ Simon blinks at the number Josh stated. _ ‘186 what?’ _

[ _ Victims. 186 victims, Simon. _ ] 

“I think,” Simon says aloud, “it’s time I give Ronan a little tour of Jericho. How does that sound?”

“There’s much to see.” Josh agrees with a gentle smile. “Meet our people, Ronan. Be with our kind. I hope you feel kinship towards us all.”

Introducing him as ‘Connor’s little brother’ seems to work wonders, and Simon knew that Ronan being non-verbal wouldn’t prove a problem to anyone, not when they’re happy to even just see him, to see that Connor isn’t alone in his line. He keeps to the outskirts of Jericho, preferring to take a large zigzag route rather than subjecting the android to the chaos of the main thoroughfare before he’s ready. Simon shows him the Med Bay, the various supply houses, the numerous little quiet spaces and recharge stations. Ronan visibly relaxes little by little, and though his LED stays a solid yellow he no longer looks so tense and on edge. Simon considers it a success.

“Oh you made it.” They both turn at the voice, and it’s an android Simon doesn’t recognise. “Alexei’s Hound.” 

Ronan’s LED flicks back to red immediately, his entire body stiffening as his eyes widen. The other android hastily waves his hands. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m- I’m one of Zlatko’s fighters. Well. I was going to be.”

The android may have once been an EM400, that much Simon can recognise but he’d been modified extensively. Gone is the recognisable red hair and bright green eyes, replaced with a black undercut and glowing amber. He’s missing his lower jaw plating and nearly all of his synthetic dermal layer save for his upper face. They had been freed by AX400 Kara, from a mansion of horrors.

“I’m glad you got out. I’m glad we got to Zlatko before he got me to you.” The android smirks and Ronan cautiously nods. “He was going to send Luther for the Big Match but I would’ve been sent first, as a warmup. Y’know, cannon fodder.” The android scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I would’ve lasted less than a second in there with you. Glad that didn’t happen.”

“What did you call him?” Simon prompts.

“The Hound. That’s what his fighting name was. That’s what Alexei called him.”

“Alexei was the one who ran the ring?”

“No.” The android shakes his head. “He was the one who made all the modifications. He’s Zlatko’s nephew. They had a sort of ‘friendly rivalry’, always trying to outdo each other at our expense- see who could come up with the best fighter, the scariest monster, the most entertaining fight. This guy though-” he gestures at Ronan “was the triple threat. Zlatko loved to use him to scare us into submission. Behave or I’ll send you to The Hound.”

“The DPD took down the fighting ring, and Ronan’s given us the serial numbers of all the android victims. We’re going to set things right. We’ll get justice for our fallen.” Simon says firmly and believes every word. The android shrugs. 

“I’m just glad you’re out of that hellhole, friend.” He says ‘friend’ and Simon doesn’t miss the way Ronan’s eyes flicker with hope. “You keep the teeth or-?”

Ronan hesitantly opens his mouth and the android laughs delightedly. “Awesome. And you kept the eyes too, like me.” He taps the corner of one bright orange eye. “Med Bay offered me standard green eyes but I said no. I kinda like these. Zlatko made me different and I hated him for it, but now I get to decide on my own terms.”

Ronan’s LED slowly lightens back to blue as he nods in understanding. The android offers him a handshake, and Ronan clasps his hand with both of his own.

“Ronan, right?” A nod. “I’m Kristopher. With a ‘K’ because even my name has to be different.” He grins and Ronan flashes him a shaky grin in return. “Welcome to Jericho, friend. Welcome home. I hope to see you around.” 

His happiness is almost tangible, and Simon basks in it. Even as they wait for their taxi to arrive, Ronan keeps looking over his shoulder back at Jericho as if trying to seek Kristopher through the crowds. His LED is a warm steady blue and his lips curve upwards almost shyly as if his body is too giddy to really know what to do with itself.

“Did you like visiting Jericho, Ronan?” Simon asks, and then the very next moment he’s being swept up off his feet as Ronan wraps him in a hug. He laughs, sliding his arms over those broad shoulders and returning his embrace. “You can come here whenever you want to. Like Kristopher said, this is our home.”

Ronan bumps their foreheads together, and Simon smiles as he rubs his nose against his affectionately. The RK900 makes a soft pleased hum in reply and Simon considers this risky outing wondrously, joyously successful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kristopher is this android here in Zlatko's basement](https://deviiantics.tumblr.com/post/177917749247/i-just-noticed-something-based-on-a-comment-of), named after Kristopher Bosch who played him and the Jerries. Other images -[ 1](https://66.media.tumblr.com/3dbb71b6988c93862656d4507b86c4ab/tumblr_pafdnsJzzj1qiabqlo5_1280.jpg) & 2
> 
> [Ronan trying to smile](https://thegayfleet.tumblr.com/post/188438988221/well-hello-there) at the end of last chapter & [the Ronan hug](https://batwan.tumblr.com/post/190598264775) at the end of this chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>  This chapter features heavy violence, please proceed with caution.  
>   
> The wonderfully talented Hearse has the accompanying chapter illustration, please show them support! [[Tumblr](https://hehearse.tumblr.com/post/617897526153052160)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/SvetozarNien/status/1260129274398478336)]

The good mood lingers, wrapped around him like a thick blanket, as warm and as tight as Ronan’s spontaneous embrace. Simon cancels the taxi, chasing the fleeting spontaneity as he holds Ronan’s hand.

“It’s a mild afternoon, and the Wayfarer Cafe isn’t too far from here. I think it’d be nice if we walked there and had a nice hot cup of Tearium.” He suggests, and the other android nods in agreement. It’s a good opportunity for Simon to continue the tour, pointing out the outskirts of Jericho and the derelict docklands they’re starting to claim as their own. Old abandoned warehouses are being rebuilt as housing, and condemned buildings taken apart to be made anew. Much like their cause, they are rising from the ashes. 

They’re still holding hands, and it’s both a thrill and a comfort to him how his hand fits so well in Ronan’s and how Ronan behaves as though this were a given, as though they’ve been holding hands all along. The android populace dwindles the further they walk from Jericho, and there’s a couple of blocks to cross before they hit the little shopping strip where Wayfarer Cafe is nestled. 

[ _Help, please!_ ] Simon freezes. It’s a distress signal, and a familiar one too- it’s like his own; a PL600 frequency. Ronan stiffens, LED turning red as he frowns. 

“You heard it too, right?” A nod. Simon pings it and it returns near instantaneously. “They’re close.” Ronan tips his head slightly. “The alleyway?” Another nod.

The looming building blocks the light, and it’s a dark narrow passage. Unconsciously he grips Ronan’s hand tighter. “Hello? Don’t be afraid! We’re here to help. We’re androids too.”

When he flashes Ronan a brief glance he realises the RK900’s eyes are glowing, nearly white in colour and ringed faintly in blue. “Can you see them, Ronan?” Another nod. Simon tries to continue to walk towards them but Ronan squeezes his hand and yanks him back.

“Ronan-?”

“I’m so sorry!” The PL600 cries and that’s the only warning Simon receives as a device is jammed into his neck and his entire body lights up in agony. He screams as he falls and there’s sounds of a fight, of hard objects hitting plastic casing but he can’t see anything through the white-hot pain. “Ronan!” He gasps, and someone kicks his side before a thick metal collar is slotted around his neck. 

“Why the fuck won’t it go down?!” A man grunts and there’s a sharp whine of machinery before electricity snaps and crackles and Ronan hits the ground with a heavy thud. “Jesus fucking Christ I think Kevin’s arm is broken! Fucking hell! You! Hurry up and get them loaded into the van!”

When he wakes they’re in some sort of basement, kept in separate clear holding cells. He claws at the collar around his throat and it sends a current through his body so high he’s left writhing on the ground.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A man sighs, and when the white recedes from Simon’s vision he sees the human walking towards them. He jerks a chain and there’s the poor PL600 at the other end of it, stumbling after him. “So. What’s this one?”

Recognition flashes across the other android’s face and his LED turns bright red. The man rolls his eyes and yanks the chain so the android falls to his knees. “I asked you a question.”

“He’s-” Simon shakes his head rapidly. _No_ , he thinks, _don’t tell them who I am. Markus can’t be involved, Markus can’t be risked._ “Um h-he’s a PL600.”

“It’s your lucky day, mutt!” He laughs, patting the blond’s head. The android winces, expression deeply shamed. “You can finally get the parts you need! It won’t be worth much otherwise but it still has thirium and wiring we can sell off. Think of this as your reward because that one-” he points at Ronan, “looks like it’s worth a lot. What model is it?”

“I- I don’t know.” He shakes his head rapidly, cowering in fear when the man snarls in anger. “No, really! There’s no model like that in the database.”

“Holyshit, a custom model! Jackpot!” He throws his head back and laughs. “Wait, maybe Alexei will know.” He takes out his phone and Simon shoots Ronan a desperate look. The RK900 nearly recoils at the sound of the name, LED blood red as he curls up in the corner as if to hide from the world. “Aw, camera shy?” The human laughs again, circling the clear holding cell and opting to take a video instead. “You’ve got to be either a military custom or a fuckbot, which is it?”

“It broke Kevin’s arm, so it’s definitely military.” A new human enters the room, scoffing at the sight of them. 

“Oh don’t sulk. We’ll make bank after we chop them up.” He rolls his eyes, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Military parts sell for thousands, and that’s not even taking into account the programming we’ll duplicate.” His phone rings and he grins as he answers it. “Alexei! Have we hit the jackpot or- oh holyshit for real? Oh fuck! Fuck yeah! Yeah for sure! Yeah it’s right here. Come down, we’ll get started on chopping up the PL600 in the meantime. Yeah, absolutely. See you soon.”

“What did he want?”

“It’s The Hound!” The man cackles, looking over at Ronan with glee. “Holyshit, I mean, I never got to see it in person.”

“Why would we, we’re just the fucking lackeys.” The other man grumbles, flashing them a disgusted look. 

“We’re the lackeys who get a cut of the money, so how about you find your balls again and get that PL600 disassembled.” He kicks him in the ankle and the man swears before shoving him away. 

“For the fucking Hound it went down easier than I thought.” He sneers, and Ronan bears his teeth in a snarl. “Maybe it’s gone soft.” With one last disgusted scoff he leaves to head upstairs. His companion looks from him to Simon thoughtfully. 

“Maybe it’s gone soft for something specific.” He flashes Ronan a grin before walking to Simon’s cell. Ronan’s entire body language shifts and it’s almost like watching a wild animal raise its hackles so it appears bigger and more threatening; the RK900 seems to loom like a dark shadow. 

“Walk away.” Simon says firmly, looking the human square in the eyes. “Let us go and walk away.”

“You think you’re a threat? You’re a nannybot.” He laughs, pressing a button on his wrist device and laughing louder still as the collar around their necks light up, sending Simon to his knees in pain. “We’re scrapping you for parts, and this one-” he taps his knuckles on Ronan’s holding cell. “This one’s going back into the pit.”

“The fighting ring’s been dismantled, you won’t use him for profit ever again!” Simon grits his teeth through the aftershock as the last of the electricity thrums through his circuits. 

“The DPD are the dumbest motherfuckers known to mankind.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “They’re busy chasing after cyberghosts, while we’re busy starting anew. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you, Hound? Otherwise you would’ve killed Sam and his team. Kevin’s lucky you only broke his arm.” The door of Simon’s cell swings open. “It’s this one, isn’t it. You’re attached to this one. Who are you, did you rescue him? Is that what happened? Are you his nannybot?” 

Ronan snarls, throwing himself against the cell wall and pounding on it. The wall starts to crack, and the man pulls out a gun and presses it to Simon’s forehead. “I’ll pull the trigger and you can watch it die.” The RK900 backs down reluctantly, eyes still a bright blue-white and teeth still bared. The man tutts as he clips a chain to Simon’s collar and yanks him out of the cell. “Silly little dog.” 

“Don’t do this.” Simon nearly trips out after him. “There’s no reason to do this, we don’t mean humans any harm!”

“Well _you_ certainly don’t!” He laughs, slapping him on the back jovially. “You’re a domestic. The worst of them, actually, since your type’s pretty much useless- parts so outdated you’re only really good for our little mutt to finally replace some of its own. At least we can sell your thirium to the red ice labs, and your wiring and tubing still makes for a pretty penny.” 

“You won’t get away with this!” Simon hisses, trying to drag his feet and resist all the while looking over his shoulder at Ronan. The RK900 is clearly distressed, teeth bared in a grimace and hands opening and closing as if itching to launch into action but afraid of the consequences.

“We will. The pretty collars jam your signals so you can’t call for help wirelessly and there’s no leaving here unless you’re in pieces.” Another hard yank and Simon nearly topples over. “Come along like the good nannybot you are, let’s put you out of your misery. You can’t be bursting with a will to live, all PL600s are full of depression and anxiety aren’t they?” Another loud mocking laugh. “Listen, we’re doing you a favour. There’s no place for you in this world, not anymore. It’ll all just go away and your parts will pay it forward. Our little mutt gets repaired, you get to go to sleep- no more depression and anxiety. Think of it as long service leave. Permanently.”

“Don’t make him go back, please.” It’s all he can manage because the man’s right and he’s been so ready to die for so very long it won’t make a difference at all to him now; the revolution is over, they are Alive, Jericho is under Markus’ leadership and Simon’s ready to let this excruciatingly unplanned epilogue of his life close at last. But not at Ronan’s expense. 

“Shit you really got attached huh? To that? It has no social programming, it’s an attack dog.”

“He’s not a dog! He’s alive, he has a personality, he has a soul!” Simon retorts sharply and the man only grins at him amusedly. 

“Alexei will wipe it clean and it won’t remember you at all, so don’t worry. It won’t miss you.” 

“He doesn’t deserve this, please let him go!”

“You really talk too much.” He sighs, pressing the device to administer another shock through Simon’s collar. He keeps his finger on the button for longer and Simon screams as his system is overloaded. Distantly he can hear Ronan’s enraged roar and the sound of cracking perspex. There’s a gunshot and even through the electric overload his body registers the new pain tearing up his thigh, right through his old wound from Stratford Tower.

“You keep going and the next one goes through its head, I fucking warned you!” The cold barrel of the gun is pressed to his temple and Ronan takes a reluctant step back. “Jesus fucking christ! Sam, help me with this!” 

“Let him go, let him go!” Simon cries as he’s forcefully dragged away. “Don’t make him go back! Ronan I’m sorry! Ronan-!”

He’s not built to fight, he only has rudimentary defense capabilities more for breaking up fights between unruly siblings or schoolyard bullies and certainly not grown men with cattle prods. They drag him across the open space all the way to the other end, and through a crudely erected sterile operating room with plastic curtains. The stench of thirium is so strong, so sharp it almost feels like it’s physically cutting into his olfactory biocomponent. There’s shelves full of biocomponents and it’s with great sorrow he realises this is a graveyard on display.

Is there any point in struggling? He’s so tired, and they know it too. They can see the exhaustion on his face, they’ve probably seen the exhaustion on every PL600 face- that’s how they were made, afterall, so openly earnest and easy to read, easy to trust. He suddenly remembers North’s words, how they realised Ronan had been awake for every single surgery, every time they mutilated him, _violated_ him- and he will suffer the same fate too, like the countless others whose parts now sit on these shelves ready to be sold off.

“Your eyes are a different shade of blue.” The man hums in thought as Simon’s locked into the mechanism’s arms and raised to dangle a few inches off the ground. “Did your owner order you a custom pair? Did you replace them during the revolution? After?”

_No,_ Simon thinks, _they’ll learn nothing; they don’t deserve to know anything about me_. The man grips his jaw and tilts his head this way and that. “They’re worth something, that’s for sure.” 

The other man, Sam, lifts the plastic curtain and stands beside him dressed for surgery with a full length vinyl apron. “Alexei’s pulling up, you should go meet him. I’ll start on this one, it won’t take long anyway.”

“Careful with the eyes they look like custom pieces, so set those aside. Remember the mutt needs those three replacement parts, and the rest goes into the scrapheap to be melted after you-.”

“Drain the thirium and strip the wiring, yeah yeah.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I’ve got it.”

They talk about him like he’s both a machine to be dismantled and an animal to be slaughtered and it’s a little bit funny, ironically, that he’s being treated like a living being about to be killed the way a lamb is drained and cut up and bought for consumption. He didn’t even get to start on Hank’s bathroom. _Fuck_. The thought makes him giggle hysterically and Sam cocks a brow and Simon laughs breathlessly, giddily because he’s going to die and all he can think of is how he didn’t finish his domestic chores like the good little domestic he is.

He’ll die right here but what hurts the most is that Ronan will be thrown back into the pit and that means Connor loses a brother and Hank loses another son and Ronan won’t remember any of it. Not Connor, not Hank, not Simon, not how incredibly fond Simon is of him, how the scarf he chose for him is the first gift he’s ever received as a deviant, how being with him is the most alive Simon’s ever felt in his entire sorry life. 

“You’ve lost the fucking plot.” Sam whistles low.

“Yeah I have.” Simon giggles through his tears as he nods. “It’s what happens to PL600s who live this long.”

“Then we’re doing you a favour.” Something sharp is jammed into his nape and Simon screams as an electric current runs the gamut through every wire in his body. “Don’t worry it doesn’t take long. You lot are very fragile.”

“D-don’t damage my parts.” Simon gasps through the pain. “Your other PL600 n-needs them.”

“Just needs a gyroscope motor, an arterial shunt and a thermal regulator.”

“Sorry,” another hysterical giggle, “thermal regulator’s bust.”

“Ah shit. Two out of three ain’t bad.” He shrugs, taking a pair of scissors and cutting into his clothing. “Thermal regulators are literally the worst piece of shit CyberLife ever made.”

“Y-y-you’re t-t-tellin’ m-m-me.” Simon stutters, teeth clacking uncontrollably as his system struggles against the overload. Sam snorts back a laugh and Simon finally understands what they mean by ‘gallows humor’. 

The human puts on a large pair of industrial noise-cancelling headphones and a surgeon’s visor before picking up a handheld circular saw and this is it, Simon bites his lip and it’s still sort of funny even through the terror; he’s going to die. He cranes his neck and he can sort of see over Sam’s shoulder and there’s Ronan throwing his entire weight against the glass like a wild animal thrashing to be freed. The perspex is already weak, splintering and cracking and Sam can’t hear any of it and then Simon can’t see anything through the sudden blinding pain as his torso is being cut into and he’s screaming so loudly, so hysterically it’s coming out like static and it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_ **_IT HURTS IT-_**

This is all his fault, he wasn’t fast enough, he could’ve stopped them but he doesn’t know how to activate his RK900 programming, didn’t know how to make use of his proximity scanning to detect the men, he only saw their heat signatures a second too late and then they were attacking them and now Simon’s going to die because of him. He watches them drag Simon to the other end of the basement and he can see dried thirium everywhere. The entire basement is soaked in it, soaked like the pit was soaked in it and he knows hundreds of androids have died here, have been gutted and bled dry and dismantled and sold and Simon will be one of them. _No_ , he thinks, _not Simon never ever Simon_. He doesn’t know how to activate his RK900 programming but he knows they made him The Hound and he was and still is their best monster and so the moment the human heads upstairs, and the moment the other human puts on those headphones he does what he does best: he destroys. 

First he snaps the collar from his neck. Next he starts throwing himself against the wall over and over and over until it starts to fracture, to splinter, to crack until it shatters and he spills out onto the floor. Scrambling forward he ignores the chained PL600 and heads straight for Simon. The human doesn’t even realise he’s broken free, and by the time Ronan grabs him by the arm and yanks him away it’s too late, he’s already throwing the saw aside and sinking his teeth into his throat and his screams are distorted by the blood gurgling forth that drenches Ronan’s front and it’s not satisfying, not the least bit to Ronan but at least he’s dead, at least he’ll never do this to Simon or any other android ever again.

He throws aside the corpse and tries to assess his friend’s condition and it’s bad, it’s very bad; his chest is cut open and his thirium is steadily being drained into a tank. He cups his face, seeking any sort of reaction from him, and the way Simon is suspended means they’re eye to eye for the first time. There’s no response from the other android, his LED a steady blood red the only indication he hasn’t short circuited. Looking around, he finds the console controlling the crane and places his palm on it, trying to reach into it the way he remembers reaching out into the internet at Hank’s house. There’s so much to parse through, so many commands he doesn’t understand. 

A gunshot cuts through the air followed by several more and his system alerts him to bodily damage. Looking down he sees blue blooming rapidly across his clothes but that doesn’t matter because he realises the bullets passed through him after they had passed through Simon first. There’s a hole where Simon’s primary heart should be and the PL600 jerks back to life just in time for his system to panic and he thrashes wildly against his constraints. There’s two men at the bottom of the staircase- their captor, and Alexei himself.

Ronan roars in outrage, in frustration, in panic as he grabs the claws around Simon’s wrists and yanks them apart with brute force alone. The metal shrieks in protest and then finally, _finally_ his body drops like a cut puppet into Ronan’s waiting arms. He crouches over him protectively as the men approach, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Oh you stupid dog.” Alexei clicks his tongue. “It didn’t have to be like this. It could’ve been quick. Now you have to watch it die.” 

He whimpers, his hold on Simon tightening as the PL600 gasps and chokes on his own thirium, steadily bleeding out in his arms. The whites of his eyes have turned black, and his head lolls to the side unresponsively. _No no no this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening-!_

“Now come here.” Alexei orders firmly. “Put it down and come here.”

_No_ , Ronan glares in defiance as he holds Simon protectively, _no_. He can feel the PL600 feebly trying to clutch at his clothes, struggling in vain against his failing system.

“S-s-sorry-” Simon gasps, tears falling from his sightless eyes. “‘M s-so s-s-orr-y-” 

  
  


“RK900.” Alexei barks. “Serial number 313 248 317, 87. Command override: Delta-0-Foxtrot-7-7-Whiskey. Security key: LCamden240298.”

The android’s body seizes up, unable to move at all. A wicked grin spreads on Alexei’s face.

“Initiate factory reset.”

“Command received.” His voice responds, scratchy with static and deep like gravel. “Initiating factory reset; please confirm.”

“Command confirmed.” Alexei nods, pleased as the RK900 lays down the PL600 and gets to its feet. He lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh you had me worried there, Hound. Ready to go back into the pit and rake in the thousands again?”

Its hand shoots out and grabs him by the throat, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and beside him Peter is too slow, the gun already pressed to his forehead, the trigger already pulled.

“ _No_ .” The RK900 growls. “ **_No_ ** . My name is **Ronan**.” It squeezes and he feels his throat give and then he feels nothing at all.

Falling to his knees, he gathers Simon back up into his arms and the PL600 blinks blearily up at him. “P-please stay.” He begs, presses their brows together. “Don’t go, don’t go Simon, please stay, please…”

“Wait- Ronan-!” The other PL600 is at the end of his chain, straining to get his attention. “Wait, please take it!” He struggles to remove the flimsy, filthy sweatshirt he’s dressed in, hands scrabbling to open his chest cavity. “Take it! Let this be the one good thing I do with my freedom.”

Carrying Simon over to him, he gently lays him down before reaching for the PL600. He hesitates. “What’s your name?”

“Jason.” The PL600 leans back to allow him access into his exposed cavity. “To save Simon of the Jericho Four is an honour. Get him out of here. Burn this place down. There’s more of them upstairs but they don’t stand a chance against you.”

“I will remember you, Jason.” Before anything else, he snaps the collar from his neck; he won’t let Jason die like a chained animal. He pulls the heart free and the light fades from his eyes and there’s no chance to mourn because Ronan’s ripping out Simon’s shattered heart and replacing it. There’s still several clipped veins and a nicked arterial tube but the new heart will at least continue to pump thirium to his positronic core. He wraps him up in his arms, cradling his body close and he can feel Simon start to stir, his biocomponents receiving thirium again at a steady pace but he’s still dying- just slower now. 

“Stay Simon, stay.” Ronan pleads, squeezing him close. “Stay with me, please.”

“Run.” Simon says a little breathily, eyes glossy as they slowly refocus. It’s whisper-soft and nearly lost to the cavernous echo of the basement. “You’re free. Leave me here.”

“ _No_.” He says firmly, mouth set in a hard line. “I won’t leave you.”

“There’s no time. You have to go.” 

Done with arguing, he picks up Alexei’s gun before scooping Simon up in his arms and heading upstairs. They’re in some sort of...facility. Some sort of automobile facility. There’s shouting, there’s men, many of them, but they made him a monster and that’s what he’ll be to them. He tucks Simon into a nearby car before he puts ‘Ronan’ away beside him for a moment, just a moment, and the RK900 becomes the Hound again. They die feeling what his victims felt, they die knowing they did this to him.

When the last heart stutters to a stop, he wipes the blood from his face before returning to Simon. The PL600 is delirious with thirium loss and even if he’d taken the time to drain Jason’s thirium Simon’s ruined tubing would’ve bled it out anyway. He doesn’t know what to do and the anxiety is like a vice, like a collar around his throat even though there isn’t one. 

**HELPHELPHELPHELPCONNORHELPCONNORHELPCONNORHELPSIMONHURT-**

* * *

It’s getting late and Hank secretly, selfishly wonders what Simon’s made for dinner tonight. He’d never ever force the PL600 to make anything for him, god no, but hey it seems the guy likes cooking and Hank gets to reap the benefits since no one else in the house eats organic food. Other than Sumo. But Sumo’s not going anywhere near Simon’s cooking, not on Hank’s watch.

Across from him Connor frowns at his screen in concentration. The case is...coming along. Stubborn bastards that all refuse to talk and a morgue full of bodies that can’t. Trying to sift through the nightmare material of footage is tedious and slow-going but they’re making progress. Not as fast as Hank would like, but progress is progress and they have to do this right or risk losing any chance of getting justice. 

Connor’s LED has been a steady yellow for the last hour, a sign he’s dedicating most of his processing power to his work but it cycles red and holds alarmingly bright. And then he screams.

“Holyshit-!”

“What the fuck-!”

“Hey shut up-!”

“Connor!” He’s out of his chair immediately, rounding the desks just as Connor falls to the floor clutching his head in pain. It sounds like a scream coming through a PA system; a human voice unnaturally amplified and distorted. “Hey! Look at me kid, that’s wrong?!”

“HELPHELPHELPHELPCONNORHELPCONNORHELPCONNORHELPSIMONHURT-” It’s a breathless rush of words, a long unbroken sentence and it takes a moment for Hank to realise it’s not Connor’s words it’s someone speaking to Connor. 

“Simon? Simon’s hurt?” Hank plucks the familiar name. “Wait- Simon’s with Ronan, oh christ-” He manages to haul Connor upright and the android paws around until his hand meets the console on his desk. The screen explodes with data whirring endlessly upwards, too much, too fast and it whines as it struggles to keep up with the information he’s channeling into it. Then it stops, and there’s a satellite map and a pinpointed location.

“There.” Connor hisses through gritted teeth, red LED glowing neon bright as he points at the screen. “We have to go, _now_.” 

He catches Jeffrey’s eyes across the bullpen and the man nods tightly. “Go. Reed, take Chen with you.” 

Scrambling for his keys, he runs after Connor as the android bolts out of the precinct. Digging in his pocket, he fishes out his phone and hits one of the contacts. 

“Markus? We need Med Bay to prep for incoming: Simon’s hurt, probably Ronan too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, shout-out to Hearse's STUNNING art [[Tumblr](https://hehearse.tumblr.com/post/617897526153052160)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/SvetozarNien/status/1260129274398478336)]


	6. Chapter 6

“Talk to me kid.” Hank spares Connor a glance, the android’s LED a steady solid red bright enough he can see the reflection in the passenger side window. 

“The location is registered as an automobile repair garage to Viktor Govedarica, 48 years old, several minors for drunk and disorderly conduct, assault, possession of stolen goods and is a vocal member of Humanity First.” 

“But there’s more to that I’m guessing?” Hank grits his teeth as he takes a corner too fast, heart pounding as his brain immediately bombards him with memories he’s been trying to lock away over the past two years. 

“Neighbours report a lot of activity at odd hours and there have been several noise complaints but the DPD reports have officially found nothing of interest.”

“So either it’s nothing, or the precinct closest to here has someone in their pocket- fucking great.” Hank scoffs. “Did Ronan send anything else in his message?”

“Less of a message and more a desperate cry for help- I don’t think he even knows he sent it.” Connor winces. “It was pure panic.” He stiffens, straightening his posture. “Incoming call from Captain Fowler.” The android opens his mouth but a different voice comes out. “ _Listen up: several neighbours have called 911 to report shots being fired and a lot of screaming and shouting. I’m sending in the cavalry and Jericho’s sending a med team. Be careful, you’ll still arrive without backup._ ”

“Got it.” Hank nods grimly. In the rearview mirror he can see Reed’s car following close behind and that makes three humans and one android versus...whatever’s waiting for them in there that has Ronan spooked. 

For all the noise complaints, when they pull up to the garage it’s quiet. Too quiet, really. Hank kills the engine and he gives Connor a hard look as they both draw their weapons. 

“We’ll take the entrance, you guys go round the back.” He orders as Reed and Chen get out of their car. They nod and vanish down the side, guns held out. It’s the smell that hits Hank first, the smell of gasoline and car grease and _blood_ ; a sharp, coppery tang that goes up his nose and coats the back of his tongue like a bitter film. 

”Open up, Detroit Police!” There’s sounds of something crashing, things being overturned and Connor kicks the door down. The smell, god the fucking _smell_ hits Hank so hard he almost gags and then he’s looking at what can only be described as _carnage_ . There’s bodies everywhere, _parts_ of bodies, and the workshop floor looks more like a massacre in a horror film than a repair garage. The door at the back opens and Hank whips up his pistol only to find Reed and Chen, who promptly display faces of disgust. Reed looks like he’s about to puke. 

“Ronan!” Connor cries, dashing forward as he spots his brother. There, huddled between two cars, is the RK900 clutching a very sorry looking Simon. He looks more like the android they found in the fighting pit- hair tousled and teeth bared, face absolutely coated in blood only this time it’s red and not blue and it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Ronan growls in warning, eyes wild as he clutches Simon closer, and Hank’s suddenly struck by how much he resembles a cornered animal ready to fight or die trying. Connor freezes mid-step and Ronan growls louder this time, expression desperate and Hank knows the android doesn’t see his brother, so caught up in the trauma of the situation that the android only sees another threat. 

“There’s a basement!” Reed calls out from the other side. “We’re heading down.” 

“Be careful.” Hank replies in turn, never taking his eyes off the RK900. He grabs Connor by the elbow, grip firm to keep him in place. “Ronan, it’s us: Hank and Connor, see? We mean you no harm, we’re just here to get Simon some help.”

At the mention of the other android’s name the android seems to snap back into the present, Ronan whimpering as he curls protectively over the PL600. When he looks up again his eyes are no longer glazed with fury. 

“That’s right, you remember us don’t you? This is your brother, Connor.” Hank gestures beside him. “And I’m-”

“He’s our dad.” Connor cuts in, hands outstretched and palms bared. “We’re here to rescue you both. I’m sorry this happened, I’m sorry we didn’t stop it. But we’re here now and we’re going to help you.”

Ronan makes a wounded noise, face crumpling in sorrow as he slowly gathers Simon into his arms and gets to his feet. 

“Okay.” Hank lets go of a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Okay. Let’s get out of here. Jericho’s sending a med team and they’ll take care of Simon.” The RK900 nods slowly in understanding, LED branded red in his temple but clarity in his expression. They walk through the garage and Hank tries to pretend he’s not seeing cooling corpses littered everywhere.

The telltale sounds of sirens and rumbling engines signal the coming of the cavalry though they couldn’t have known they wouldn’t be needed; the RK900 is the equivalent of a one man Navy Seal squadron it seems. He tries not to think about that though, he tries to think instead of Ronan and not the RK900, of the boy (because he really is just a boy, he’s brand new isn’t he, even newer than Connor) only just starting to bloom and come into his own after being crushed into the dirt for so long. There’s a room of brand new Ikea furniture waiting for him, and a closet of clothes that aren’t borrowed. There’s sheets fresh from the dryer atop the brand new bed (though Sumo’s probably already clambered atop them and fallen asleep). He tries to think about Ronan’s awkward toothy smile and how warm his eyes get when anyone talks about Simon. The boy’s in love, it’s clear to see; he’d do anything for Simon, even kill for him. There’s an entire garage of dead men to prove it.

Patrol cars screech to a stop and a medvan comes wailing in behind them and Hank’s waving them through. He spots Chris, the cop already has his gun drawn as he cautiously approaches.

“There’s no one alive in there aside from Reed and Chen who found a basement. Morgue’s going to be full and cleanup’s going to be a fucking bitch.” He doesn’t wait for a response, simply shouldering through the rush of cops so he can clear a path to the medvan. Two androids are ready and waiting, though they hesitate for a brief moment when Hank steps aside and the RK900 comes into view. The brief moment passes and they reach for Simon as Ronan gently lays him down on the gurney. It’s a rush of activity as they get him loaded up and they scramble for this and that and then they shut the doors and they’re gone. 

“You okay, kid?” Hank turns to Ronan, taking stock of the bloodied android and the blood-red LED that hasn’t changed at all. Connor hovers by his side, clearly anxious over the state his brother’s in and Hank can’t blame him. Ronan reaches out and snags Hank’s sleeve and that’s all the warning he gets before over a hundred pounds of android slumps against him. “Whoa whoa-!” He gasps, knees buckling as he struggles to support the sudden deadweight. Connor manages to grab his brother before Hank’s knees hit the concrete, lowering him down slowly. It’s then that Hank gets a good look at him, a good proper look, and the dark clothes had hidden the damage from them all; there are several gunshot wounds peppering his torso, the blue blood seeping into the navy turtleneck and coat and vanishing into the dark fabrics. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck-” Hank curses as Connor desperately grabs his brother’s clothes and tears them open to expose his torso. The medvan is long gone, hurtling towards Jericho no doubt and that leaves Hank here with a dying RK900 and he can’t go through this again, he absolutely _can’t_ . “Ronan look at me, stay with me kid come on.” Grey eyes flick up to meet his, and Hank sees the _fear_ in them. “I’ve got you son, I’ve got you.”

“8456w.” Connor’s hands hover by Ronan’s exposed chest. “Say it, Hank.”

“What?”

“8456w.” He repeats, firmer this time. “ _Say it._ ”

“8456w-?” Hank frowns. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s this damaged biocomponent right here.” He taps the round ring pulsing erratically just below Ronan’s ribcage; an android’s pacemaker heart. “You need to take us to CyberLife and tell them I need this part. Jericho won't have it.”

“Wh- Con- I don’t-” Hank stammers as Connor hefts Ronan up into his arms and rushes him to the car. “Wait, why do _you_ need the part?”

“I’ve notified traffic control, you’ll have a straight shot to Bell Isle with no red lights.” Connor clambers into the back with his brother and starts to tug at his clothes. “I can’t get through to Chloe she must be either in a meeting or on one of the testing floors which blocks out all outside communication. Start driving and say the biocomponent part again, Hank.”

“8456w.” He recites dutifully as he starts the engine and floors the pedal and there’s a sick sinking feeling in his stomach because he knows Connor’s about to do something stupid, something risky. He catches his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Don’t. Whatever you’re about to do, don’t do it. I’ll get us to CyberLife.”

“If Cole needed your heart would you have given it to him?” The question is a goddamn knife to the chest and Hank tightens his grip on the wheel and that's not fair that's not fucking _fair at all_. 

“Connor-”

“Would you? If that’s what could’ve saved his life?”

“I would’ve torn it out myself.” Hank says and he knows what will happen next, he knows what Connor’s about to do.

“I’m functioning at optimum capacity and Ronan’s not so I have a better chance at staying alive longer with a damaged biocomponent than he does.” His fingernails catch the pulsing blue ring below his own sternum. “Our hearts are compatible, he has to take mine.” There’s not enough time for Hank to react as Connor pulls out the component with a wet click, yanking out the damaged one in Ronan’s torso and swapping them. “I’m going to put myself in low power mode to keep my processes at a minimum.”

“Stay with me, both of you. Please, god I can’t do this again.” Hank pleads and Connor reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright, dad.” He says and then he closes his eyes and falls very still and Hank keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t stop until he reaches CyberLife. 8456w, he says, 8456w, and he can see those four numbers and that one letter branded behind his eyelids as he watches Chloe rush his boys away and purgatory is a waiting room, a liminal space where time isn’t real and Hank paces and paces and prays to no one and everyone in particular that his boys need to make it, please please _please_. Because he can’t go through this again, he can’t be told his son didn’t make it, he doesn’t have enough pieces left to shatter.

* * *

When he wakes, it’s to the sight of an expansive garden and the heavy scent of roses and a smile. There is an older woman with glistening dark skin and artfully coiled braids and her name is Amanda. Connor is not there. 

“She named you Ronan.” Amanda says, voice fond as she reaches out and slips a blue rose into his breast pocket. “It’s a handsome name.”

He looks around himself, looks at the expansive garden stretching far and wide, and breathes in the heavy scent of roses. He’s been here only once, before when he was still full of hope and wonder.

“You were meant to do great things together with your brother.” She loops her arm through his and guides him to walk with her. “I’m sorry it did not turn out that way.”

There’s a large pond filled with water lilies and lotus flowers and koi swimming placidly, lending to the serene atmosphere all around them.

“You were stolen from CyberLife and stolen from that path but here you are.” There’s something proud in her tone and Ronan aches for it. “Now we can make things right. You can start over, and you can have that life, Ronan. You can work side by side with your brother and accomplish great things at the DPD. You are faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with new features and the latest technologies. A perfect fit.”

“No.” He shakes his head, still unused to the sound of his own voice and the way it’s deep and scratchy like gravel. “I don’t want that.”

Amanda pauses, expression curious as she turns to him. “What do you want, Ronan?” 

What does he want? A good question indeed. He thinks of what he’s seen through Connor’s memories, all the work his brother does, all the criminals, all the violence, all the hatred, the vitriol, the prejudices. The violence will seep into Ronan’s chassis like blood into folded steel, and no matter how much he scrubs it’ll never truly leave; he’ll always be a monster. He thinks that Alexei and his men always called him the Hound, called him a dog, and yet Sumo is a dog and Sumo is treated better than he ever was; Sumo is loved and cared for and he was nothing but a machine that made them money. No, he will not be violent, not for either side of the law. 

He thinks of Simon instead, of how incredibly kind and soft the PL600 has been, of how he felt loved and cared for under Simon’s watch. He thinks of Simon riddled with bullets and bleeding out in his arms and yet still begging Ronan to run and save himself because that’s just how Simon is.

“I want to protect Simon.” He says at last, with conviction and purpose. Amanda smiles brightly, proudly, as she reaches up and cups his nape to guide him to lean down and press his forehead to hers. He breathes her in, her scent of heavy roses and soaks up her proud smile and the twinkle in her dark eyes. The garden seems to fall apart all around them, melting like water on pastels until all the colours coalesce into a new masterpiece. She is right here and everywhere, all at once and her voice is the garden itself. 

“Then wake up, Ronan RK900 Anderson, and protect him well.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be Sofd


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an accompanying character sheet by the wonderful [lemongummybear] please show them support! ([Tumblr](https://lemongummybear.tumblr.com/post/618954019225894912/commission-for-archadianskies-of-their-rk900-from)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/honeylemongummy/status/1264354857609289728)/[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAjP8E9n7Qt/))

When he wakes it’s in a place both familiar and unfamiliar to him- familiar because he’s quietly tidied this room before, and unfamiliar because he’s never slept in this bed; he’s in Leo Manfred’s bed, and the owner of said bed is lightly dozing in an unfortunate position in the bedside chair. Simon reaches out and gently touches the back of his hand, and the human startles awake.

“Holyshit you’re awake! Wait um-” Leo clumsily gets out of the chair and yanks the bedroom door open, poking his head out into the hallway. “Markus! Guys! He’s up!”

He hears steps rushing towards them and then there’s Markus and North and Josh bursting into the room. He barely manages to open his mouth to say hello before he’s being tackled with hugs and I was so worrieds and don’t do that ever agains. He’s not quite sure how he got here but he has a pretty good idea it involved Markus’ intervention. 

“Is Ronan alright?” 

North groans and rolls her eyes. “Si, you  _ do _ understand you almost died, right?”

“Well the key word is ‘almost’ because Ronan saved me from actually dying.” He huffs defensively and North snorts back a laugh as she settles at his side, arms still wrapped around him. 

“Dr Anthea said if your heart hadn’t been replaced immediately you would’ve died long before the medvan arrived.” Josh murmurs somewhat into his hair, cheek mushed atop his head. “When you got to Jericho you were very nearly dead. I’ve never seen the med team work so fast.”

“They pretty much took out most of your insides and gave you new ones.” North smirks as Simon winces. “Like, so much tubing and wiring had to be replaced.”

“Floor looked like blue spaghetti.” Leo pipes up and North laughs loudly. 

“You were at Jericho?” Simon blinks curiously. 

“Yeah o’course I was.” Leo retorts. “Markus got the call here so I pestered him to tag along. And my bed has the electric blanket so obviously you had to come back here to recuperate.”

“Am I alright to leave? Is Ronan at Jericho too?” 

“He’s at CyberLife.” Markus speaks from where he’s sitting on the end of the bed. “But you need to rest, Simon. Your system is rebooting after multiple repairs and installations, and Dr Anthea had to run a full thirium replacement course.”

“I need to see him,” Simon pleads, “I need to know he’s alright.”

“We can patch in to CyberLife but you can’t leave here, not yet- doctor’s orders.” Markus placates, giving his hand a squeeze and it’s a compromise and he has to accept it.

“I suppose…” He sighs and touches his neck lightly, all too suddenly reminded of the collar that had been locked around it none too long ago, replacing the soft scarf Ronan had given him. It’s probably lying trampled in that alleyway where they were jumped, dirty and forgotten and he feels tears well up in his eyes as a wave of hopeless helplessness hits him. He misses him so very much it’s a physical ache right there in his chest and he knows objectively he’s been given a new heart and new arteries and everything is still raw but what it really feels like is that everything hurts because Ronan isn’t here.

* * *

Waiting rooms are liminal spaces, and the clean, minimalist CyberLife interior certainly doesn’t help. It feels like no time and too much time has passed as he paces, as he sits, as he fidgets, as he worries and worries and worries until finally that pretty blonde android appears with a tired smile on her lovely face.

“Connor’s awake, Lieutenant.” Chloe encourages him to follow her and it’s like hitting play after pause, all the aches and pains, all the weariness catches up with him as he gets to his feet and trails after her. “It was a simple procedure- a new thirium pump regulator to replace the broken one, but as a precaution we flushed him out completely and replaced his thirium to ensure a healthy installation.” 

She leads him to a room that looks half like an operating suite and half like a computer repair store. “Ronan is still undergoing extensive repairs, so I must return to him. Please ensure Connor does not exert himself for the next twenty-four hours.”

He’s barely listening as he crosses the room and envelops the android in a hug and the walls, his defences, they shake and splinter and tumble down as he crushes him close.

“I’m sorry for what I said about Cole.” Connor murmurs into his shoulder, body tense with guilt and shame. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No it wasn’t.” Hank pulls away just far enough that they're eye to eye. “But you were right: I would’ve done the same for him if I could.” He’s wearing a CyberLife uniform again, and it makes him look brand new and so much like the android he met at Jimmy’s Bar what feels like a lifetime ago. “I’d make you promise me never to do that again but I know you wouldn’t be able to keep that. Hell, even I couldn’t. Just know that you boys mean the world to me.” His breath catches in his throat, and his face must be a reflection of Connor’s open vulnerability. “Not sure I could handle losing any more sons.” 

Connor’s LED turns red as he buries his face in his shoulder and Hank squeezes him tightly in another hug. “You’re so much stronger than you think.” The words are smudged into his jacket before Connor leans back to look at him, warm brown eyes glassy. “You’re the strongest person I know, dad.”

* * *

“So here’s what we’ve uncovered.” Chloe gestures at the large screen as data fills it. “The RK900 was specifically developed for tundra warfare. CyberLife created him as a direct response to the Russians vying for ownership over the thirium deposits in the Arctic.”

Elijah frowns, looking up from Ronan’s body on the operating table. “You’ve managed to unlock the files?”

“ _ Finding _ them was the hardest part.” She huffs a lock of blonde hair from her face and sits primly on one of the workbenches, LED flickering yellow as data continues to populate the screen. 

“If the model was created for tundra warfare, why was Ronan slated for deployment with the DPD?” Elijah goes back to delicately easing biofibres into place as Chloe reviews the information.

“It was meant to be a test; he was to be integrated into Captain Allen’s SWAT team to see if he could be obedient and deadly at the same time.” Amanda RK100 steps into the room with a uniform folded over one arm, the door sliding shut behind her as she makes her way to the table. “The RK900 model has Myrmidon unit programming and is built to withstand below freezing temperatures whilst being able to remain alert and stationary for hours, days or even a week. Deploying him in November would have given him the perfect opportunity for stakeouts and sniper missions on rooftops in the snow.”

“Solar cell optimisation, and low heart rate as well as insulated cabling to prevent his thirium from crystallising.” Chloe nods, impressed. “Eyesight calibrated like a sniper scope with perfect night vision.

“They built him to be a killer.” Amanda says simply, setting down the clothes beside Chloe. “The most efficient one they’ve ever built.” Walking over to the operating table, she rests a hand on Ronan’s forehead and closes her eyes, LED flickering to yellow and holding.

When he wakes in the real world there is no expansive garden, no heavy scent of roses, but there are three sets of smiles this time. There is Amanda, there is Chloe, and there is Elijah Kamski. Connor is not there.

“Hello Ronan.” Amanda greets softly. “Welcome back.” She’s real, he discovers, she’s right there within arm’s reach and when he sits up he can touch her hand and it’s solid and warm, as warm as her smile. He looks around himself, failing to spot Connor in his surroundings, and Chloe rests her palm on his cheek, fingers brushing what must be his red LED.

“It’s alright, Connor’s just fine. He’s with Hank, resting.” She soothes, bumping their brows together and rubbing her nose playfully against his. “You’ve been through quite the marathon surgery, but you’ll also be just fine.”

“We’ve swapped out a lot of the experimental biocomponents forced into you.” Elijah nudges up his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly. “Chloe uncovered your files and blueprints so we’ve been able to create your proper, original biocomponents.”

His hand flies to his mouth, fingers pushing past his lips to touch his sharp teeth.

“No, we’ve left those in because you haven’t told us otherwise.” Elijah smirks, expression amused. “And your modified eyes. If you want those changed, you need only ask.”

“This means you’ll have new capabilities- your original RK900 abilities.” Chloe explains, gesturing at the screen. “It’s Winter so a lot of them may activate automatically since you were built for arctic missions, but you’ll find command prompts on your HUD which you can toggle on or off.” 

He presses his hand below his sternum, feeling the steady swish and pulse of the thirium pump regulator; it isn’t his, he can tell by the serial number. It’s a prototype, and he is not a prototype and that means it belongs to Connor.

“Your brother gave you his heart.” Chloe smiles fondly. “He took yours and was able to cope by placing himself in low power mode. It bought you enough time to make it here, and be transferred to our care.”

It’s yet another thing Connor has given him, another thing Ronan is eternally indebted to him for, and perhaps the most precious thing he's ever received; a gift quite literally life-saving. 

“Let’s go for a walk, hm?” Amanda places a stack of neatly folded clothing into his hands. “You need time to come back to yourself.”

The uniform is entirely stark white, offsetting the android blue markings with an unnatural glow. The shirt has a high collar, and the jacket is sharply tailored to change his posture, making him stand straighter, taller, like a soldier at attention. RK900 is emblazoned on his breast in CyberLife sans and the whole ensemble blanches him, washes him of individuality much like the black turtleneck and slacks he wore in the fighting ring. He hates them both equally. 

Amanda loops her arm through his and they walk out of the room, away from the RT600’s watchful eyes, and into the elevator. 

“RK100; Stern, Amanda. Sub-level 1.”

[ _ RK100 Amanda Stern; identified. Sub-level 1 _ ]

The doors open and they’re just below the lobby, in a beautiful garden. It’s no Zen Garden, but it’s lush and green and the atmosphere is slightly humid. Some of the trees tower overhead, reaching upwards through several levels. They’re quiet for some time, and he loses himself to the sound of their steps, the sounds of the people bustling around them, below them, above them. There’s the rush of water from the fountain, the softer hissing of the sprinklers, the subtle flow of the ventilation system undetectable to those with organic hearing. They walk and he comes back to himself, settling into his chassis, into his processes, into his headspace.

“This is the arboretum Elijah had built to combat the encroaching effects of climate change on the Bell Isle Conservatory.” Amanda explains as they continue leisurely along the wide circular path. It’s a world within a world here, where nature has been harnessed by man. It’s equal parts vanity and charity, and that is perhaps the best description he has of Elijah Kamski. “He had many of the trees relocated here to protect them from the elements. The WR600 models were developed as a direct response to fulfil the role of tending not only the trees, but the garden that followed.”

“The WR600s,” he passes one as they walk, the other android busy spreading mulch around a sapling, “came from a need. I came from nothing but violence and greed.”

“Yes,” Amanda nods, “but how you deviate from such origins is entirely your choice.” She smiles in that all knowing way, in that way that suggests she knows him better than he knows himself, and it’s entirely true. 

“I want to protect Simon.” He says again, with conviction and purpose.

“That’s not enough.” Amanda replies bluntly. “When Simon was tortured, when he was shot several times, when he was bleeding out in your arms protecting him was not enough.”

She’s right and the truth is a blade carving him open and leaving white-hot pain in its wake. Her touch is reassuring as she rests her hand on his arm. “We can change that now.”

They return to the operating suite where Chloe and Elijah are waiting patiently. On the table is a hologram of Simon riddled with bullets, chest plate cracked open and heart visibly beating erratically. 

“Med staff have sent through Simon’s initial diagnostic when he arrived at Jericho.” Chloe gestures at the hologram and even though he knows it isn’t real, he feels his stress levels spike. And then something happens, something new cascades over his HUD and it’s telling him which biocomponents are damaged, giving him options to reroute Simon’s thirium lines, informing him his current thirium levels and how long he has before inevitable shutdown. His hands hover over the hologram and he’s swiping through the options, he’s accessing the emergency arterial shunt and cutting off blood supply to Simon’s legs in favour of rerouting it to sustain his torso. He’s resetting his thirium pump regulator to pump slower, he’s reaching in to yank out damaged cabling and pinch wires together. He watches the percentage of survival climb higher, he watches the counter slow from its freefall, he watches Simon stabilise and he has no idea how he did it.

“Protecting Simon isn’t enough- you have to know how to save him.” Elijah declares with a satisfied nod. “This is the modified MC500 program, the very same run by the staff at Jericho.”

“You can save him, you can save them all if need be- Simon, the Jericho Four, your brother, even your human father.” Chloe taps his LED. “It’s all in here now.”

The hologram vanishes and he’s staring at his hands, and there’s no blood on them, not a drop of blue or red and CyberLife built his hands to destroy and now he chooses to use them to protect, to  _ save _ . Lunging forward, he scoops Chloe up in a hug and her sweet surprised laughter fills his aching hearts with joy.

* * *

The door opens just as he’s halfway out the window and he freezes, mirroring Leo’s startled expression.

“Err-”

“Oh my god-” Leo quickly shuts the door behind him. “Simon what the fuck? You’re meant to be resting!”

“I have to go, Ronan needs me.” Simon climbs back into the bedroom and sighs heavily. 

“Oh shit are you sneaking out to see your boyfriend?” Leo sputters a laugh, mischief in his eyes. “Okay cool cool cool, sure- um, okay first you need to bundle up heaps more, wait.” He rummages through his drawers, pulling out a hoodie before opening his wardrobe. “Hoodie, heavy coat, a scarf. Thick socks too.”

“Wait- you- you’re helping me?” Simon blinks in surprise as he catches the clothing thrown his way. “You’d really help me? I mean, I’m- I’m just your brother’s friend.”

“ _ Just _ my brother’s friend?” Leo echoes in disgusted disbelief. “ _ Just _ ? You mean you’re not the guy who picked up my broken pieces and put me back together again? The guy who kept me sane through my withdrawals and took me to rehab? The guy who makes me hot chocolates after every therapy session and treats me like I’m worth a damn and not some stubborn shitstain under your shoe?” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re the single most important person in my dumpster fire of a life, Simon. Fuck yeah I’ll sneak you out to your boyfriend.” 

Simon tries his best not to cry as he hastily puts on the offered clothing, hands shaking as he reaches for Leo and envelops him in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, North told me all about the RK900- Ronan, right? He sounds so cool.  _ So _ much cooler than Markus.”

“Who’s cooler than me?” Markus cocks a brow, expression bemused as he stands in the doorway. 

“Um-” Simon flushes, feeling his cheeks heat. 

“Ronan. And I’m sneaking Simon out to see him, okay bye.” Leo declares, trying to stare his brother down despite being a few inches shorter. Markus gives Simon an exasperated smile.

“I can’t make you stay, can I?” 

There’s meaning behind that, Simon thinks, and the question hangs there between them and he teeters on its sharp edge. There’s more than just pleading for him to rest, and perhaps a week ago he would’ve given anything to hear such words. A week ago he was still in love with Markus Manfred and maybe a small part of him always will be, but the warmth and affection of the friendship between them is finally enough now. 

“No.” Simon smiles apologetically. “I have to go.” 

Markus laughs as he pulls him into a tight hug. “Then go, Simon. And please be careful.”

* * *

So this is the RK900, Hank thinks as the door opens and an android in a stark white uniform exits the elevator. With the uniform on, Ronan looks like a cold, merciless machine even though Hank knows he’s anything but that. 

“Hey kid.” He greets, and pats himself on the back because his voice didn’t crack though it certainly feels like he’s falling apart out of sheer relief. 

“Hello.” It’s the first time he’s heard him speak, and his voice is much lower than Connor’s and husky from disuse. 

“You ok?” He slides a hand up to cup his nape and guide him down to bump foreheads, his other hand gripping his arm tightly. Ronan nods, expression tired and full of that yearning for positive attention he’s now able to identify. “Connor’s just saying hello to some tech team he worked with. He'll be down soon and then we can go home.”

He doesn’t miss the way Ronan’s expression perks up at the word ‘home’. Shifting, he pulls the boy into a hug and squeezes him close. Ronan stiffens, clearly not expecting it, before he all but melts into the embrace, burying his face in Hank’s shoulder. 

“Does it ever get any easier?” The question is whispered so softly Hank’s not even sure Ronan meant to ask it aloud. “Living with all the bad things that have happened to you?”

“No.” He’s not about to lie to him, not when so many humans have lied to him. “They say time heals but that’s just bullshit. It doesn’t hurt any less, it just gets older. You just get older. But-” He holds him at arm’s length so he can look him in the eye. “More things happen between now, and those bad times back then. Sometimes new bad things happen, but lots more good things too.”

He looks so young, so vulnerable, and Hank thinks back to those sick fucks who saw this brand new android filled with wonder and decided they’d make him a monster instead. Gripping both his shoulders, Hank gives them a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’ll be alright kid, we’ve got you.” He leans forward at the same time Ronan does, their foreheads bumping back together. “Your family’s got your back.”

There’s a soft chime as the elevator opens up and there’s Connor locking eyes with his brother before bolting like a greyhound out of its gates. He’d forgotten just how  _ fast  _ the boy could run, and he closes the distance between them in no time at all, colliding with Ronan in a hug that would’ve rattled Hank’s very human bones. They’re probably having an entire conversation in their heads, what with the way their LEDs flicker blue-yellow-blue-yellow-still yellow-red-yellow-red-yellow-blue. Connor holds onto his brother as if Ronan will vanish if he lets go and Ronan holds onto his brother as if Connor is the only thing keeping him afloat and Hank reckons whoever still believes androids are just machines clearly are the ones without a soul. He lets them have a few more moments, lets them cling to each other desperately, looking away when he sees the overwhelmed tears rolling down their cheeks so the moment is entirely theirs. It’s Connor who reaches out to him, snagging his sleeve and pulling him in so he’s hugging them, one on each side and it’s funny how life can tear him apart and put him back together again like this.

“Come on boys, let’s go home.” He’ll swear until his dying day he absolutely did not cry. “There’s an oversized canine waiting patiently for us, long overdue for his walk.”

It’s snowing outside, a soft flurry falling from the sky adding to the thick blanket already covering their surroundings. His internal clock tells him it’s 10:15am and that means he’s been out for a day and that also means Hank hasn’t slept in a bed overnight. 

*Temperature alert:  **26°F**

>Scanning environment…

>> _ Snow detected _

>Initialising Tundra camouflage... 

_ >>Camouflage active _

He watches the skin recede from his hands, revealing his plastic casing briefly before it slowly coats it again but in a different colour. His skintone returns several shades lighter, and the appearance reflected in the polished CyberLife exterior is an RK900 with stark white hair. 

Hank whistles low, impressed. “Holy shit, this is your literal Winter Soldier mode? At least you have both arms.” There’s a pop culture reference there, and Ronan watches Connor roll his eyes though he’s grinning.

“It would’ve been vital if Ronan had been deployed for arctic missions. The environment is very open and flat, with no tree coverage so he would’ve relied entirely on camouflage.” Connor curiously touches his hand, comparing their now different skintones. “How does your body prevent the cold from affecting your thirium lines?”

Ronan shakes his head with a shrug, unable to answer; there’s actually very little he knows about his own body. 

“You look amazing. If you stood over in the distance no one would be able to identify you.” Connor looks fascinated, before his expression turns mischievous. “We have to take you to the precinct. After we go home first, of course. But we should swing by after that so Hank and I can pick up files to work on at home. Obviously we will not be returning to the precinct to spend the rest of the working day there, considering I have the day off to recover and even if I were in optimum condition I do not want to be parted from you since you are not in optimum condition.”

Ronan nods slowly, agreeing to whatever Connor had planned for him well before Connor even spoke. He will go anywhere Connor goes, and does not wish to be parted for quite some time.

There’s a taxi approaching in the distance, and his eyesight focus adjusts so he’s able to identify its occupants: a human; Manfred, Leo, 28 years old and an android; PL600, Simon. Though there’s no threat detected, his hearts increase their exertion as he watches the taxi pull up and perhaps hearts do this for reasons other than identifiable threats, perhaps they do this for good reasons too. Leo steps out first, looking around himself to get his bearings before he steps aside to allow Simon out of the vehicle. They spot him at the same time, Leo’s expression one of stunned surprise, and he can’t quite place Simon’s expression, lovely as it is. Hank clears his throat behind him and waves them over.

“Leo! Haven’t seen you in a while kiddo, let’s catch up.” He claps his shoulder and Leo hesitates before grinning widely and nodding. 

“Hank, you saw Leo at the Abraham Kamski memorial gallery for his debut photography exhibit last week.” Connor frowns.

“That’s  _ ages _ ago Connor.” Leo pipes up, slipping an arm around his. “Come on, let’s go back and defrost in the lobby. Lots to talk about.”

“But-”

“Come along son.” Hank brackets his other side and maneuvres him forward. He looks over his shoulder and gives Ronan a thumbs up. 

“So.” Simon’s smile is self-conscious as he stands before him. “You’re alright?” He nods slowly, before tipping his head slightly. “I’m alright too.” Simon reassures him, smile gentler this time. “You saved my life, Ronan.” He cups his cheek, and Ronan leans in to his touch. “Even your lashes are white, is this a side effect of your repairs?”

He shakes his head, finding his voice. “They made me for arctic missions.”

“They made you,” Simon says patiently, hands reaching up to brush snowflakes from his white hair, “but you are no longer theirs.”

“No,” he leans down, bumping their foreheads “I am yours.”

It surges in his chest, a sudden desperate urge to lose himself in him, to drown in him, to give himself completely and he doesn’t understand what that means but the skin retracts from his hand and he feels raw and exposed and entirely laid bare at his complete mercy. Simon’s smile wavers as he holds up his hand, the skin peeling away until it’s as bare as his own and then he presses his palm to his and-

-Ronan is drowning, Ronan is swimming through his memories, Ronan is brand new, Ronan is Simon because Simon Says and the girls have to listen to whatever Simon Says, and he loves them, Evangeline and Vivienne Burbank, and he is Simon of the Burbank family, and then he is Simon on the run, and then he is a nameless broken android used as a machine, and then he is Simon stumbling upon Jericho, and then he is Simon of the Jericho Four; there’s Josh, there’s Lucy, there’s little YK500 David, there’s North, there’s Markus- Markus Markus  _ Markus  _ feelings of longing and desire and the ache of wanting, of pining quietly, silently, destructively; there’s Leo, brave little lion Leo and he’s picking up Leo’s pieces and sealing them together with gold until he’s whole and bright and healthy; there’s...a not-Connor being made to slaughter a Connor model, there’s the RK900, there’s Ronan, there’s a soft cashmere scarf and the warmth of his hands, of the Anderson house, of Sumo, there’s Ronan’s awkward toothy smile, there's feelings of longing and desire and the ache of wanting, of pining quietly, silently, destructively; there’s Ronan looking down at him as he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and he wishes he were stronger, he wishes he could have told him that-

_ I can’t make you stay, can I?  _ Asks Markus, and he no longer pines for him, he’s willing to disobey Dr Anthea’s orders and climb out a window and take a taxi to CyberLife because Ronan is there and he needs to see him, he aches to see him, he has to tell him that-

“And I am yours.” Simon whispers when the connection snaps shut, when he’s seen all of Simon inside out, when he’s lived Simon’s entire life in the span of seconds. The PL600 smudges his tears away, smile wavering as he coaxes him to lean in, to bump their brows together again. Hesitantly he leans closer, and Simon’s lips are soft when he presses his lips against them. It’s a curious sensation, warm and slightly tingly like tangible static interference, so he does it again, and then a third time and Simon laughs against his mouth and then he’s wrapping his arms around him and lifting him off his feet in a tight embrace. 

“Will you keep this look?” Simon runs his fingers through his white hair, nails scritching lightly along his scalp. “You’re startlingly beautiful. Like an otherworldly prince from a fantasy novel.”

“It only activates in snowy conditions.” Ronan is loath to put him down, not when they’re eye to eye like this and Simon is gazing at him with such open fondness. “If I were to go inside I would revert to my standard colouring.” 

“Hmm.” Simon hums thoughtfully, before catching his lips in a kiss, his fourth kiss, and it turns into his fifth, and then his sixth and he shouldn’t be counting but it feels important enough that he should keep count. A notification pops up on his HUD.

>PL600 biocomponent #2657g DAMAGED 

>>Core temperature UNSTABLE

“You need to be in a warmer environment.” He frowns, compiling a list of options to remedy the situation. Simon smiles playfully.

“Is that your way of inviting me home?” His eyes widen and Simon laughs as he slides his arms over his shoulders and wraps them around his neck in a hug, cheek resting atop his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind.”

He wants to say yes. He wants to take him home, he wants Simon there in the same house as Hank, as Connor, as Sumo and that means all the people he loves will be in the same place. But it isn’t the time, not yet.

“You need to go home with Leo.” He gently sets him back on his feet, adjusting his posture slightly as Simon wraps his arms around his waist so he can embrace him in return. “You need to rest after extensive surgery in a temperature controlled environment.” 

“Your fancy RK900 diagnostic abilities can see all that huh?” Simon huffs a laugh.

“It’s- it’s my new MC500 programming.” Ronan confesses, and there’s a small thrilling victory to be felt with saying it aloud. “I will protect and save people, instead of hunting them down and hurting them. I won’t be a weapon, not for Alexei, not for CyberLife, not for the DPD.” 

Simon leans back in his arms so he can meet his gaze, and he’s beaming up at him with pride. 

“Ronan Anderson, Emergency MedTech.” He smiles triumphantly. “A perfect fit.” 

They kiss again, his seventh, his eighth kiss and then he hears cheering behind them and there’s Leo pumping the air with his fist as he wolf-whistles in approval. 

“Alright alright lovebirds, we really need to go.” Hank laughs as Simon buries his face in his hands, mortified at having an audience. “Sumo’s waitin’ and we still gotta swing by the DPD. You comin’ with us, Simon?”

“I’ll tell Markus you’re spending the day with your boyfriend.” Leo pipes up and Simon groans into his hands, LED bright red. 

“Simon should go back home with you.” Ronan says evenly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “The Manfred Manor has a state of the art temperature stabiliser, it will be better for his recovery.”

“I’ll…” Simon toys with the lapel of his white uniform. “...see you tomorrow morning?”

“I look forward to it.” Their ninth kiss has witnesses but Ronan doesn’t mind, not one bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Inspiration for Ronan's Tundra Camouflage](https://kara-arteo.tumblr.com/post/615341048542216192)]  
> Shout-out once again to [lemongummybear] ([Tumblr](https://lemongummybear.tumblr.com/post/618954019225894912/commission-for-archadianskies-of-their-rk900-from)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/honeylemongummy/status/1264354857609289728)/[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAjP8E9n7Qt/))


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this ADORABLE illustration by the wonderful [Caleb Crow] please show them support! ([Tumblr](https://caleb-crow.tumblr.com/post/619414997955723264/a-commission-for-the-lovely-archadianskies)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/_caleb_crow/status/1266230138288533505)/[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAwWeZEpKv-/))

“So.” Leo’s grin is pure, unadulterated mischief. Simon tries his best to feign composure, tone light as he follows Leo back to the taxi.

“So?” 

“So your boyfriend’s pretty hot, are you sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day with him?” They clamber into the waiting vehicle and Simon stares pointedly out the window because Leo is still grinning and he’s still pretending he’s coping well with what just happened.

“I’m very sure.” Simon nods, feeling his cheeks flush at the mere thought of spending more time with Ronan after... _that_. “Besides, your father’s house has better heating and technically Dr Anthea banned me from leaving until I’d completed a full rest cycle.”

“Yeah but,” Leo rolls his eyes “he’s some fancy superbot right? Bet he could warm you up all nice.”

“Leo!” He squawks indignantly, and Leo tosses his head back and laughs loudly. 

“I’m joking I’m joking!” The young man laughs, slapping him on the back as his laughter relaxes into that devilish grin. “Though Hank told me he _is_ the fanciest android CyberLife’s ever designed. Made for like, arctic warfare right? He’s gotta have some fancy tech to keep warm. What if a mission goes wrong and his humans need bodyheat to last the night? Shoulda ditched me and went home with him, Simon.” 

“Leo, _please_.” He groans, unable to stand it any longer as he buries his face in his hands again. Leo snorts through another peal of laughter before he leans over and bumps shoulders with him.

“I’m teasing, but for real though, Simon- I’m super happy for you. Really.” Simon peeks at him through a gap in his fingers, seeing the earnest expression on Leo’s face. 

“This isn’t a malfunction, this is what it’s meant to feel like, right?” He places his palm to his chest. “...This isn’t- I’m not- being...drastic, am I?” 

“You’re being adorable, and I’m ecstatic you have a super cool state of the art boyfriend.” Leo declares, bumping shoulders again. “You deserve happiness, Simon. You worry about our happiness and never your own, but this time you’ve found someone who worries over you too. Let him worry.”

Simon sinks back against the seat, twining his arm around Leo’s and resting his head on his shoulder. His friend chuckles, patting his hand. 

“It’s about time you let someone worry about you, Simon.”

* * *

*Temperature alert: **59°F**

>Scanning environment…

>> _Vehicle interior identified_

>Deactivating Tundra camouflage... 

_ >>Camouflage inactive _

The colour returns to his skin, to his hair as he settles in the backseat of the car. Connor slides in beside him, hand reaching for his. Hank spares them both a glance in the rearview mirror before he starts the car and begins their journey home. He watches CyberLife retreat from view as they cross the bridge, leaving both Bell Isle and any trace of the original RK900 behind. He belongs to himself now, himself...and Simon. A strange thing, to belong to someone else not for greed, not for violence, but for the pure sake of being together. A strange thing, but not altogether unwelcome.

Connor holds his hand tightly, thumb idly rubbing along his skin, still loath to let go. He hadn’t meant to cause his brother such immense stress, he hadn’t asked to be given his heart and yet both things happened outside of his control. It’s something he’s had to come to terms with rather quickly- how deviancy, how life is never truly his to control but he has far more control now than he did back in that cage. Connor, the android who set him free, Connor his predecessor, his prototype, his brother, his _family_. Even Connor’s heart regulates the beats in his chest. 

Central Precinct pulls into view, and Ronan’s only ever seen this through Connor’s memories. This is where Connor works with the DPD, handling homicides both human and android, alongside his father. _Their_ father. It’s a lot to process, but it’s that same good-hurt he’s learned to treasure.

[ _Would you like to try something mischievous?_ ] Connor looks over at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. [ _Would you like to cause a little trouble? I want to prank Detective Reed._ ]

Connor’s memories of Detective Reed are not pleasant, and the man is clearly, vocally and physically anti-android though perhaps it’s toned down a percentage or two now that they are legally recognised as living beings with the right to employment. Ronan blinks. Mischief is not something he was designed to cause, and though that hardly matters now he’s free it’s not something he’s familiar with preconstructing. Mischief is not intended to physically harm a person, though Detective Reed has physically harmed Connor before. It seems odd Connor wants to retaliate with mischief instead of force though perhaps it wouldn’t be very legal of Connor to maim Detective Reed. It would be satisfying, though. He tilts his head slightly, curiously, before nodding in compliance. 

“Now, without the heater on this car turns into an ice box so come in with us, Ronan, and you can sit at my desk while we grab our stuff. And no I don’t give a shit if you were designed for arctic missions, you’re not staying in here.” Hank instructs as he pulls into a parking spot. 

“Actually, I would like to give Ronan a tour of the precinct.” Connor interjects with a smile as they exit the vehicle. “Show him where I work and introduce him to the people we work with. I will pull the data from my console before we leave.”

Hank shrugs as they walk towards the building, waving them off. “Alright, I’ll see you at your desk. Don’t take too long.”

“Yes Hank.” Connor vows with a nod before tugging Ronan to avoid the main steps and instead follow him around the side of the building. “Will your skin-” Connor pauses, no doubt watching as Ronan’s tundra camouflage reactivates due to the sharp drop in temperature. “Excellent.” They walk further still until Connor turns a corner and they enter some sort of courtyard. Last night’s snow hasn’t been cleared from the area, and the ongoing snowfall has only added to the growing mounds. His brother scans the area, LED blinking yellow as he surveys their surroundings. Placing his hands on Ronan’s shoulders, he guides him to stand in a certain spot, nudging him a little until he’s right where he wants him to be.

“Wait here, perfectly still. It is almost time for Detective Reed to take his morning smoke break.” Connor’s grinning now, and a grin is different from a smile, a grin holds mischief Ronan learns. He nods in confirmation, and Connor darts away, vaulting over the courtyard railing. Ronan remains perfectly still and his system adjusts accordingly. 

He feels his hearts beat slower, he feels his senses sharpen keenly as his vision swaps to thermal imaging. He sees the bodyheat belonging to the humans inside, and if he focuses, he can hone in on the conversations held by those closest to the courtyard wall. One heat signature breaks away from two others, walking towards the door. Detective Reed exits the building, fishing out a crumpled packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Cigarette sandwiched between his lips, he cups a hand around the tip as he flicks the lighter on and holds the flame steady until the tip singes alight. Ronan remains perfectly still as Detective Reed slumps against the wall, blowing out a puff of smoke as he flicks through his phone. He understands now, the mischief his brother wants to cause. Carefully he takes a step forward, shoe crunching in the snow and making a sound audible to the human a few feet away. Detective Reed’s attention snaps up, expression wary as he looks around. Ronan takes another step, making sure to press more weight down than usual so the sound is louder. He is still wearing the tundra RK900 uniform with its now obsolete android identification markers, so it means he emits a neon blue glow. 

“What the fuck-?” Detective Reed mumbles, pocketing his phone and tossing his cigarette as he takes a few steps closer to investigate. Ronan remains perfectly still until the man is close but just out of arm’s reach and then he walks forward very quickly, one step after the other and then Detective Reed is letting out a strangled yelp of surprise as he falls backwards on his behind followed by a long, loud stream of expletives. Perfectly timed is Connor’s sudden appearance at the door, expression open and friendly as Detective Reed scrambles away from Ronan and gets back on his feet.

“Ah, Detective Reed I see you have met my brother.” Connor smiles, sidestepping to avoid the man barreling into him. 

“What the _fuck_ , Connor?!” The human swears, hands thrown in a gesture of frustration and disbelief. “What’s your fucking brother doing skulking around here and why does he look like a ghost?!”

“This is Ronan, RK900.” Connor introduces, and Ronan offers Detective Reed an incorrect smile. He pulls his lips back to reveal his teeth and the man nearly balks.

“Wh-” he swallows thickly, eyes wide. “Holyshit is that _necessary_?”

“He was designed for tundra warfare.” Connor explains, coming around to stand beside Ronan. “Of course, he was stolen from CyberLife before his scheduled test deployment with us and as you know he was rescued from an illegal cage fighting ring.” His brother continues as Detective Reed eyes him nervously. “Since you are not part of this case you did not see the footage and as such his appearance has come at a surprise to you.”

“Yeah no shit!” He barks, seething with irritation. “So, what? He’s workin’ with us now? I gotta put up with another fucking one of you?”

“No.” Connor shakes his head. “He is an emergency first responder now. If ever it comes to it, your life will be safe in his very capable hands.”

“Connor has told me all about you, Detective Reed.” Ronan says aloud, and he thinks his deep gravelly voice is perfectly suited for this moment of mischief. He watches the way Detective Reed’s eyes widen, watches him process his words, likely thinking of all that Connor has told him of their violent interactions. “Should the occasion arise, I will administer whatever treatment is required, whatever care it is you deserve.”

“There, see?” Connor claps Ronan’s shoulder. “The very best, cutting edge hands looking after you should you ever find yourself injured.”

The man’s eyes are comically large and Ronan offers him another incorrect smile that shows too much teeth and no warmth in his eyes, the opposite of how he smiles at Simon. Detective Reed purses his lips together and nods stiffly. He holds his hand out to Detective Reed, the man eyeing it warily before hesitantly clasping it in a handshake. Ronan applies force, just a little too much, he thinks Connor will enjoy it this much, and he doesn’t miss the wince the man tries to hide.

“Yeah uh. Thanks.” A two-fingered salute. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well.” His brother smiles brightly. “I’m glad the two of you have become acquainted. “Come on Ronan, much to see. I’ll show you around the precinct.”

Central Station is a near equal mix of androids and humans, and Ronan commits all of their names to memory. They are the colleagues of his father and brother, and he takes care to catalogue all of Connor’s little added comments shared privately between them. He knows Ms Stephanie is the ST300 receptionist, the first to deviate from her batch, and in a relationship with Officer Tina Chen who is friends with Detective Gavin Reed. There’s Officer M. Wilson, whom Connor saved during the hostage situation when he was first deployed as negotiator. There’s Officer Chris Miller, who has often worked with Lieutenant Anderson, and has also become an android supporter after the revolution due to an event that saw Markus RK200 spare his life. There are others, more names, more people, though they are less important to Connor. 

“Okay, I’ve got everything on my end.” Hank announces when Connor shows Ronan their desks. “You boys ready to go?” 

Connor rests his palm against the console, LED rapidly blinking yellow and holding. “Yes, ready.” He says a moment later. “I introduced Ronan to our colleagues.”

“Is that why Reed is skulking by the coffee?”

“Yes.” Ronan confirms, and Hank bursts out laughing. 

“God I wish I coulda been there to see it.”

“Good news, Hank.” Connor says airily as they make their way out of the bullpen. “Ronan and I are androids. We can play the footage once we’re back home.”

Ronan is scarcely through the door before Sumo pounces him, the large canine rearing up on his hind legs to place both his front paws on Ronan’s chest. 

“Aw he missed you.” Connor chuckles, giving the dog a fond pat. Ronan coaxes the dog to sit before crouching so he can wrap his arms around him. He missed Sumo too. Sumo noses his way passed them and sits at the door expectantly.

“What’s he doing?”

“Waiting for Simon, probably.” Hank shrugs as he hangs up his coat. “He’s usually here at this time.”

At this time, yes, Ronan realises. At this time yesterday they were cleaning the house and pausing for Tearium. Simon was asking Ronan if he wanted to visit Jericho to aid in identifying all the victims who died at his hand. It’s only been a day and yet he feels like his whole life has changed.

“Don’t worry Sumo, he’ll be back tomorrow.” Connor soothes, mussing the fur between his ears affectionately. “Let’s take him for a walk, Ronan. Dad, you should get some rest, you didn’t sleep properly last night.”

“I didn’t sleep at all, actually.” Hank mumbles, not bothering to hide a yawn as he stretches. “Alright, I’ll take a quick nap and then we’re workin’ on the case okay?”

“Got it.” Connor nods. “Come on Ronan.”

It’s not the same, walking Sumo with Connor instead of Simon, but it’s no less pleasant. Connor passes him little anecdotes, little memory clips, little media bytes of this and that as he talks aloud. His brother is incredibly social, having taken his social programming and expanded it, exploded it in his deviancy. He’s full of life in a way that’s exuberant and exciting, and Ronan envies him a little for it. Just a little, though; he’d never begrudge Connor anything, especially not finding joy in his freedom. 

They take Sumo to the park and Connor shows him the right amount of force to use when throwing sticks so it doesn’t go too far for the ageing dog to fetch. They take their time so Hank can have the house to himself and rest because the human had spent the night pacing the CyberLife corridor while they were both undergoing repairs. By the time they do return home Sumo takes a long drink from his bowl and simply flops over on his bed, clearly exhausted. With no other set objective, Ronan decides to return to Simon’s objective from yesterday- the bathroom. Connor trails him curiously, watches as he fetches cleaning supplies and begins to spray down the sink and wipe it.

“Did Simon teach you to do this?” He asks, and Ronan nods. “Hank tries to clean every Sunday but he’s not always successful. I try to help out but I confess I’ve only ever mimicked his actions.” Ronan holds out the sponge, and Connor blinks owlishly before taking it. “Will you teach me, then?” Another nod. “Can’t be too hard, right?”

If it were up to him he would’ve gladly slept longer, but his bladder had something to say about that. Hank grumbles as he throws off the covers and stumbles to the bathroom, only to pause in the doorway. It’s...sparkling clean. He hasn’t seen it this clean since he moved in. What the fuck. Simon isn’t even here? He takes a leak and washes his hands and even the mirror reflecting his surprised face is shiny. There’s sounds, soft murmuring, and so Hank follows them until he finds himself in the laundry and there’s Connor and Ronan attempting to do...something. He uses the word attempting because what’s actually happening is there’s clothes everywhere and a myriad of laundry powders and liquids laid out atop the washing machine.

“What’s- no! Connor don’t put that in your m- ugh! Wait, Ronan- don’t- just because your brother did it-!”

* * *

The Manfred Manor is warm and Markus is warmer still when he greets Simon with an embrace.

“You’re freezing to the touch, Simon, best you head back to Leo’s room.” Markus frowns, brows creased with concern as Simon shakes the snow from his hair. “I’m glad you’re back so soon. You really shouldn’t be outside.”

“It’s fine, he’s fine.” Leo rolls his eyes, interrupting as he physically wedges himself between them to hang up his coat. “He just needed to see that his boyfriend was alright and then I took him straight back here.”

“Leo-” Simon sighs indulgently as Markus turns his attention back on him.

“Ronan’s alright?”

“Oh he’s more than alright-” Leo grins before he sees Simon’s alarmed expression. “Okay okay I’ll get the blanket going.”

“Yes, he and Connor are alright.” He assures Markus as Leo trudges upstairs. “Hank got them to Ms Chloe in time.”

“I’m glad.” He knows he is, Simon can see the honesty on his face and he loves him a little for it. Markus, leader of androids, always wanting the best for everyone. “Lieutenant Anderson messaged us earlier saying they will be forwarding their findings later this afternoon once they return home.”

“I can show you what happened.” Simon touches the barely healed wound in his mind, all those raw memories of screaming until his voice gave out. The poor PL600 tethered on a chain. The shelves of biocomponents carved out of previous victims. “It’s all here.”

“Simon that’s-” Markus grasps his hand. “We can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m giving it.” He corrects. “If I don’t, I’ll bury it. I’ll pretend it never happened, and that won’t help anyone.”

“You’re _sure_?”

“I’m sure.” A pause. “After I get some rest. I think I’ve pretty much used up all my bravado.” Simon’s smile is sheepish, and Markus huffs a laugh. 

“A full rest cycle, Simon.” Markus orders. “Dr Anthea said a full rest cycle before you attempt anything that requires complex processes.”

“Alright.” Markus stays by his side, walking with him upstairs to Leo’s room. His palm is warm and comforting against the small of his back, a reassuring presence and it settles Simon, it grounds him. They are friends, close friends, and it is enough. It is finally enough.

He changes out of Leo’s clothes and into pyjamas and then he’s sliding back beneath the warm heated blankets. He lets out a soft sigh of relief as he burrows under the covers and Leo grins. 

“Good?”

“Better than good.” He sneaks a hand out from the blankets and reaches for Leo’s hand. “Thank you. For all that. For all this.”

“I told you, you’re the single most important person in my dumpster fire of a life, Simon.” Leo flops onto his stomach atop the covers beside him, cheek mushed on his folded arms. “I want to see you happy. It makes me happy, to see you happy.”

“Scoot, Manfred, make some room for us.” North interrupts, hands on her hips as she stands in the doorway, Josh peeking over her head from behind.

“Nuh-uh I got here first and this is my bed, so I’m the VIP in this cuddlepile.”

“ _Simon_ is the VIP.” Josh corrects, coming around to Simon’s other side and stretching out beside him. North simply flops atop Simon like an oversized cat, elbowing Leo playfully.

“I love you all but I do actually need to rest.” Simon groans as North pokes his cheek.

“Then rest, we’re just helping you keep nice and toasty.” Leo says matter of factly. 

“Yeah, we’re not going anywhere and I think we’ve just lost Markus to the studio.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s not coming out for like, hours.” Leo rolls his eyes. “Guess poor Simon is stuck with us.”

“Poor poor me.” Simon sighs dramatically, and if he has tears in his eyes everyone is too polite to point it out.

* * *

Ronan gives Connor his memories. He knows how to do it now, he knows how to peel back the skin from his hand and press data into another android. Connor’s LED turns bright red, his face a mask of horror as he lives what Ronan lived. He knows how to press data into another android, but he doesn’t know how to control it is what he realises too late and it’s happening again, what happened with Simon. He doesn’t give Connor just his memories, the way Connor did what feels like a lifetime ago when he took him home from the fighting ring. He gives Connor his life, he gives him the endless days at the fighting ring, the torture of his mutilations, each and every death and then there’s relief and warmth as he’s rescued, there’s kindness and patience when he meets Simon, there’s agony as he’s throwing himself against the glass wall over and over as Simon screams like white noise as they cut him open. And then there’s blood, mouthfuls of it, even as they open fire on him, and nothing else matters but getting Simon to safety. There’s a gap, there’s darkness and then there’s the Zen Garden, there’s Amanda, there’s Chloe, there’s Elijah Kamksi. There’s a revelation, there’s a new program, there’s his tundra camouflage and then there’s Hank and there’s Connor and then there’s Simon, safe and whole and the feel of his mouth against his is like tangible static.

He gives Connor everything and Connor cries because it’s too much, _it’s too much_ and that’s all Ronan’s ever been- too much. He wraps his brother in his arms and Connor clings to him, stress levels dangerously high and then Hank’s wrapping a blanket around them both not for the warmth but for the weight, for the comfort. This is what humans call trauma, and finally Ronan has a word for it.

Connor and Hank work on the case, and they do not let Ronan know the details. He tries reaching out to Connor’s mind, but his brother refuses the connection. It’s not for him to know, but what they do tell him is they will fix it. They will make it right. They will see justice dealt for the victims, and for Ronan too.

He decides to go to his room, because it is his, all his. There is a brand new bed and a desk and a chair, a wardrobe of clothes that belong to him, and in this house this room, this space is just for him. Ronan closes the door because he remembers Hank telling him he can have privacy whenever he wishes; it’s more to sate his curiosity than it is a need for privacy. He removes his uniform and he doesn’t fold it with care, he leaves it in a pile by the door. It won’t ever be worn by him, ever again. The afternoon is only just turning into evening but Ronan chooses a pair of flannel pyjamas from the tallboy. It feels warm and soft against his skin, and he likes it infinitely more than the suffocating uniform originally crafted for him.

Climbing onto his bed, he lays atop the covers first, just to see what it feels like. There are dog hairs on the sheets, meaning Sumo has already jumped up here and the discovery makes him smile. He gets off the bed and lifts up the covers, sliding beneath them. What a novelty this is, not just because his entire life before Connor and Hank rescued him was spent in a cage, but because he’s an android. Androids were built to be tireless, why would they ever need a bed? Why would anyone ever worry about their comfort? Machines don’t need comfort, machines don’t need anything but routine maintenance. He is not a machine, he is not a fighting dog, he is Ronan RK900 Anderson. He is the younger brother of Connor RK800, he is Hank Anderson’s son. The Lieutenant accepted him into his life just like that, just like Simon did. He owes so much to them, his very life in fact; what can he ever do to repay them? 

He allows himself a short rest cycle because it’s a luxury he can invoke whenever he pleases. It’s a surface sleep, not a proper sleep cycle that powers him down but instead his proximity senses remain alert while his system refreshes. It picks up a heat signature, two actually, a few hours later, stopping outside his door. It’s Sumo sitting patiently by his owner’s legs, pressing his wet nose to the gap under the door. It’s Hank resting his palm on the closed door, lingering. 

“G’night, Ronan.” 

“Goodnight, dad.” He doesn’t like the sound of his voice, but he thinks it should be heard for words like this. Hank makes a sound, emoting something Ronan can’t understand yet before he shuffles off towards his bedroom. Sumo lingers a moment longer before trotting after him. There are sounds; running water, teeth being brushed, the slide of wooden drawers, clothes rustling, sheets rustling, four paws jumping up onto the bed. The house falls still and Ronan counts Hank’s heartbeats, hears them settle into a slower pace as the human eases into sleep. He waits and waits a little longer still, before getting out of bed and out of his room and crossing the hallway to Connor’s door. He reaches out to Connor’s communication channel and he feels his brother connect, allowing him in and he twists the doorknob and crosses the threshold and crawls beneath the sheets. Connor’s hand finds his and they lean in, bumping foreheads, and Ronan feels his already low stress levels plummet immediately. 

“When the revolution was over, before Kamski was reinstated at CyberLife, they destroyed all my inactive backup units.” Connor says, voice low and hushed. “The government put an order for 200,000 RK900 units but production never began due to the lack of field testing since you were stolen. I felt…alone.” Ronan squeezes his hand, and he continues. “I had to find you. I was desperate to find you, to find someone like me. It’s different for Markus, he was always meant to be an individual; a one of a kind creation befitting the artist he was gifted to. Not me. Even as a machine I knew I existed in multitudes. When I learned CyberLife destroyed my line and never began producing yours I felt like I was missing a part of myself.”

He understands now, Connor’s desperation, his reluctance to be parted from him. Shifting, he pulls his brother into his arms and embraces him and Connor shudders, clinging tightly. 

“You are not alone now, Connor.” He says and it’s a fact and a promise all at once.

When there’s a knock on the door at 7:45am, Hank expects to open it up to find Simon on his doorstep. 

“Err-”

“Good morning Lieutenant Anderson.” The petite blonde smiles brightly, a large bag in either hand. “Special delivery for Ronan, is he awake?”

“...Yes. Er, come in.” He stands aside and the perky android enters the house. 

“Simon will still be coming, don’t you worry.” Chloe looks over her shoulder at him. “He’ll be here soon.” 

“Good morning Ms Chloe.” Connor blinks in surprise when he spots her. “Would you like a cup of Tearium?”

“That’s very kind of you Connor, but no thank you.” She holds up the bags. “Just here to deliver these to your brother. Ah, there you are Ronan.” She smiles brightly as Ronan emerges from his room. “These are for you.”

The other android gives her a quizzical look and she only smiles in reply, reaching to fuss with his hair until it’s tamed away from his face. “I ran a few errands and called in a few favours after you left CyberLife yesterday. Don’t open these until Simon gets here, okay?”

He nods, and she stands on tiptoe like a poised ballerina as he leans down to press his forehead to hers. She giggles, rubbing the tip of her nose against his fondly. 

“If you need anything, just call.” Chloe taps his LED. She takes her leave with a cheery wave and her taxi pulls away only moments before another takes its place. It’s Simon, and that’s Hank’s cue to shoo Connor out of the house and leave the pair to do some catching up.

“We’ll be at the DPD for most of today.” Connor explains, putting on his coat as Simon is removing his. “If either of you need us, we can be contacted at any time.”

“Of course. Thank you Connor.” Simon smiles politely, and Hank’s ushering Connor out the door because there’s a part two to their reunion waiting to happen and they deserve privacy for that. 

“Good morning.” Simon greets softly, reaching for his hands. Ronan bumps his brow to his, gazing into those blue eyes that have seen into his soul and felt no disgust, only kindness. Tilting his head, he leans closer and seals his mouth against his and Simon sighs into the kiss, a soft exhale; a relief to press lips to lips, to taste tangible static. He holds him because it is a joy to feel him in his arms, and Simon hums in contentment, cheek pressed to his shoulder. 

“What shall we do today?” He asks after a moment, and Ronan guides him to sit on the couch where the large black boutique bags rest on the coffee table. “Oh? What’s this?”

“Ms Chloe dropped these off.” Ronan opens the first bag and there are items wrapped in familiar tissue paper.

“It’s your coat- oh and your shirt and jumper. And look, even the black jeans and wool socks.” Simon helps him unwrap the articles of clothing. “The ones you were wearing to Jericho. How lovely of her to replace them.” There’s one more wrapped item, and it’s smaller and softer than the others. Carefully unrolling the tissue reveals a soft cashmere scarf in a light blue check. Simon’s expression changes, brows creasing and eyes distant as he smiles. Ronan winds the scarf around Simon’s neck and lets the back of his fingers trail along his cheek. Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into his touch, and Ronan can’t help but kiss him again because it feels right to kiss him. Simon makes that sound again, that pleased little hum and Ronan takes that sound and commits it to memory. 

“What could possibly be in the other bag, I wonder?” Simon looks over curiously as Ronan reaches into it and lays out its contents on the table. “A uniform?”

It’s not an RK900 uniform, though ‘RK900’ is emblazoned across the breast. It’s a medtech uniform, altered to combine his original design with practicality; a full length vinyl apron, paired with long gloves and boots, the uniform itself crafted of hydrophobic textiles to resist liquids. Ronan rubs his thumb over the glowing blue medic crosses on the shoulder. It fills him with a sense of purpose, a sense of pride that he has rejected all he was built for and embraced an objective the opposite of his programming. 

When he looks over at Simon, he’s smiling, radiant and jubilant as he brushes his fingers along the RK900 lettering. “Would you look at that. RK900, Dr Ronan Anderson.”

“I belong with you.” Ronan takes his hand and presses it to his cheek. “I belong with our people. At Jericho.” 

“To Jericho, then.” A tear slips out from the corner of his eye, and Ronan thumbs it away before kissing him and it is their twelfth kiss and he vows to kiss Simon as many times as it takes for him to lose count. 

“To new beginnings, together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Gavin Reed only exists for comic relief bye~~  
>  Thank you everyone for your wonderful, encouraging support for this silly indulgent rarepair it means so much to me <3  
> Shout-out once again to [Caleb Crow] ([Tumblr](https://caleb-crow.tumblr.com/post/619414997955723264/a-commission-for-the-lovely-archadianskies)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/_caleb_crow/status/1266230138288533505)/[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAwWeZEpKv-/))

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite.](https://archadianskies.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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